Page 2 of Not Safe for Work
“Please, call me Abel. I’d even say call me Abe, but I always felt it made me sound like an old man, or a dead president. Maybe even an old man who is a dead president.”
She tried not to laugh at that. Hartford hated it when she laughed.
Yet somehow it was spilling out anyway.
She could feel her mouth curling at the corners.
The sound was pushing at her pressed-together lips.
And even worse: he noticed. Those black eyes seemed to dart over every inch of her face, as if searching for any trace of amusement. However, when he found some, he didn’t bark an order at her. He leaned in again, as if they were coconspirators. Murmured words mere inches from her lips.
“You don’t have to hold that in. Not with me, at least,” he said.
And just like that her ability to respond was gone.
She went to speak, and only air came out.
He had to fill in the blanks for her.
“Shall we?” he asked, and waved one arm in the direction of the gilded bank of elevators. Then he just started walking, leaving her to trail after him in a daze. In fact, by the time he got there she was a good five steps behind him. He had to hold the doors for her, and the way he went about it only made her feel weirder, hotter. He did it with his whole body, so in order to get in she had to almost brush against him. She smelled his cologne, sweet and rich. She felt the warmth of him against the side of her body.
And then they were standing together, side by side.
Him relaxed, with his hands in the pockets of his perfectly tailored slacks.
Her breathing too hard, muscles tensed in anticipation of whatever strange thing he would say next.
Though it didn’t feel like tension when he abruptly spoke again.
It felt like being on top of an insane rollercoaster that ran in almost complete darkness.
“So how annoying do you find Hartford?” he said.
But all she could do was eye him with suspicion.
Then lie, right through her back teeth.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I don’t find him annoying at all.”
“Well, I suppose there’s always an exception to the rule.”
“I don’t know what rule you mean.”
“The one that says everyone in the world finds Hartford annoying.”
“How can that possibly be true when you’ve been his friend for ten years?”
“Being his friend for ten years doesn’t mean I can’t see his faults. In fact, it’s how I came to this conclusion in the first place, Ms. Elliot. I have an enormous wealth of experience to draw on, believe me.”
He paused for a long time then—long enough that she assumed it was over. No more honeypot voice saying mischievous things. No more edging toward abominable rule breaking. No more having to look directly at his handsome face.
Just a nice, relaxing, businesslike tour.
Until he touched her arm.
He leaned in again.
“I have waited four hours for him at lunch because his cuffs were not starched to the right degree, only to spend an additional two trying to convince him that they looked perfectly fine. Even now, if I move something on his desk even slightly out of position, he will eye it until I put it back where it belongs. Whole conversations will halt because a pen is not where it should be, and no amount of kindness and warmth will make him behave any differently.”
