The One I Want

Andrew is staring at the TV on his wall like it’s going to reveal the secret of life. It’s not, just what the S & P 500 is at for the day. Laurie sits in a chair across the desk from him, leaving me to brave the fifteen feet by myself. I consider detouring to the couch because that looks like a better place to be fired. At least I’d be comfortable.

His eyes hit mine, freezing me to the spot. “I’d like to speak with Ms. Jacobs in private.”

Laurie says, “I don’t think that’s a wise idea. Per company policy, a human resources representative—”

“I’m okay with it,” I say. There’s a tremble to my voice that I’m not used to anymore. I hate it. I also hate the fear this situation inspires inside me. Tamping it down, I add, “I’ll be fine. I’ve done nothing wrong.”

She looks back and forth between us and then sets her eyes on me again. “It’s for your protection as well.”

“I don’t need protecting.”

Andrew’s eyes finally leave mine, and he says to Laurie, “If you must stay, I’ll allow it.”

“It’s up to both of you.”

“We’re fine,” we both say, the words rushing out at the same time.

Her gaze darts between us several times before she stands up and moves to the door. “Okay, then.”

I’m still standing in the middle of the room like a damn lingerie model when the door clicks closed behind me. When I turn back to Andrew, he says, “I’m going to need you to explain.”

“Can I sit down first?”

12

Andrew

That skirt.

Fuck. Doesn’t matter how mad I am at her; I’m going to be dreaming of that fucking skirt all fucking night. I scrub my hands over my face a few times before looking back up to find her staring at me.

Wide-eyed innocence is written all over her face, despite that damn skirt that says she knew exactly what she was doing by wearing that today.

I angle my chair toward the couch because Juni, being herself, went for the unexpected option—the one not even offered. “Enlighten me as to what you’re doing on the floor of my office in the middle of the day.”

“Would you rather it had been at night?” She grins, but it drops again. “Is this a no-joke zone?”

“This is a no-joke zone.” Resting my forearms on the desk, I have a thousand ideas running through my head, but not one of them makes sense. “I’m serious, Juni. Why were you on the floor in Justin’s cubicle?”

A flicker of anger cruises through her pretty hazel eyes before she glances away. When she looks back at me, her composure has returned. “I wasn’t purposely on Justin’s floor. I’ve been avoiding him like I’ve been avoiding you.”

“Why are you avoiding me?”

“Because you’re the CEO.”

I take a breath and sit back, wondering if we can actually get from here to there in the most direct fashion. “I don’t understand, Juni. I need you to explain with more detail.”

She sits forward, clasping her hands on top of her knees and studying her nails. When she looks up, she asks, “You want the truth?” with the confidence I’m more familiar with in her.

“I want the truth.”

For a moment, I feel like she’s going to tell me I can’t handle it, quoting the old movie line. “I just resigned and was coming out of Laurie’s office when I saw you and Mary about to come around the corner.” No teasing is heard.

“What do you mean resigned? When did you start working here?”

“Last Tuesday. I was brought in to cover for Melissa while she’s on maternity leave.”

“The new girl . . .” I say to myself.

“Yes. I’m the new girl.”

Speaking with such ease in this unofficial moniker they dubbed her, she doesn’t even realize what Justin’s been saying behind her back. “Last Tuesday, we met for coffee before work?”

She grins as if she’s been waiting for me to piece this puzzle together. “I came here right after.”

“This is getting close to the stalker issue again.”

“I knew you’d go there. You always go straight for the heart.”

“I think it’s straight for the jugular.”

“Oh, okay,” she replies angrily, crossing her arms over her chest. “For the record, it may be jugular, but you accusing me of something I didn’t do feels like a hit to the heart.” She stands. “I didn’t stalk you, Andrew. I didn’t even know your last name until Friday night . . . or technically, Saturday morning. It’s so hard to know what to call those wee hours in the middle of the night.” She huffs. “Anyway, I didn’t even know your name was Christiansen last week, or I would have told you I got a job here. Well, a temp if we’re being accurate, but I quit, so it doesn’t matter now.”

I rummage through the rambling words to make some kind of sense of it. I’m not sure what to think, except that she looks ready to bolt. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on, or how I’m supposed to react. Should I be mad or freaked out that you’re working in my office, and I didn’t know?”