“Are you going to drink that?”
In a move that I found endearing, she turned to face me, her eyes were as wide as saucers. She glanced down at the coffee pot in her hands. “Yes, I’d planned to drink it. What’s wrong with it?”
“That’s swill. I can make you a better cup of coffee. Real coffee. What do you say?” She stared at me with skepticism clouding her lovely face. I gestured toward the door. “Trust me. Let’s go.”
Jasmine and I streamed through the labyrinth of glass-enclosed hallways. The tip-tap of her heels against the slate floor was the only sound. She was so close and smelled so fucking good—a heady mixture of blackberries and vanilla.
“You’ve not had the official Garrett Hamilton tour, have you?” She’d been at the corporate headquarters for a month. I knew she could find her way around. I wanted a reason to melt the chill that existed between us.
On the other side of the glass were rows and rows of cubicles. I turned to Jasmine. “We like to call the corporate shared services departments The Fishbowls.”
We rounded one corner and approached a large atrium filled with colorful open workstations, decorated with double helix structures. We stopped so she could look at the floors below. I whispered, “These are scientists working on special projects. They work in research pods similar to our setup in the war room.”
“I wonder what they’re working on.” Mouth agape, wonder filled her eyes.
“One of our lines of business is product development. The scientists create chemical compounds or drug formulas. On the other side of the wall is our fulfillment center.”
The hallways leading to the IT department transformed into a modern, open space.
“Finally, the IT department.” I pointed to the empty desk outside my office. “That’s where Beverly, my assistant, sits.”
“By the way, thank you for providing lunches. You’ve made excellent food choices.”
“You’re welcome. I want the team to know that Dynex management appreciates the hard work.”
We stepped into my office. Jasmine took a seat and looked around the room. My sparsely furnished office was on the larger size. I had a few family photos and my college degree on the walls. On my bookshelf rested two glass “Outstanding Employee” awards. A fig tree sat in the corner. The only reason it wasn’t dead was that the office gardener maintained it for me.
I pulled out a small basket that contained a bag of Dean and Deluca coffee and a French press from the wet bar. I added the coffee beans, filled the press with hot water from the dispenser, and let the coffee steep while I pulled two mugs from the mug tree on the countertop.
“Have you ever had French pressed coffee?”
“No, I haven’t. I am not a coffee expert. I only drink it when I need a blast of caffeine.”
“Well, a taste of this, and you’ll want nothing else.” My heart pounded in my chest. The play on words was a chickenshit way of flirting. If she questioned my intent, I could always say the statement was directed to the coffee. Though in my heart of hearts, I knew that I was talking about fucking her until she saw no other man.
“I’ll be the judge of that.” She arched a brow in response.
Jasmine quietly watched my every move before I pressed the plunger. I grabbed a small container of coffee creamer from the mini-fridge and set it on the counter.
“I like store-bought creamer that’s full of fat and artificial ingredients. Help yourself. There are sweetener and sugar packets on the counter.” I poured the coffee into the two mugs and presented one to Jasmine. “I promise that this will be better than anything you’ve ever had.”
She lifted the mug, sipped on the hot, creamy drink, and closed her eyes as her head fell back. I took a sip from my cup and had to pat myself on the back for the perfect brew.
“Thank you. You’re right, this is a great cup of coffee,” she said.
“Do you have a few minutes to talk?”
She nodded, fingers wrapped tightly around the mug. I sat across from her. She flashed a shy smile. “This is a nice office.”
Shallow conversations didn’t appeal to me. I needed to get to know the real Jasmine. There was only one way I knew to get her to loosen up.
“Thanks. Duke, huh?”
She smiled. “You’re a Michigan Wolverine.” She added a frown at the mention of my college mascot.
“Should we associate with each other?”
“At the end of this engagement, you’ll be able to brag that you learned from a Blue Devil.”
Yeah, but not anything that I would like to learn from you.
“Thank you for having coffee with me. Our working relationship is essential to the success of Project Orion.” I continued as she contemplated my words. “I hope that we can put the past behind us. “
“Garrett, here’s what you’ll learn. I look ahead. Never behind.”
I miss you.
My sister had changed Colette’s contact name to DNA-Colette. DNA stood for “do not answer.” It was a visual reminder that I should ignore the text. Nothing good could come from an out-of-the-blue text from an ex.
I continued to stare at the screen in disbelief while the three dots bounced, showing that Colette was typing a message.
My body craves your touch.
Twenty seconds later, my phone vibrated with an image of a collage of body parts. The legs that I’d admired, lips that I’d kissed, and the tits that I had stroked and caressed were on full display. The body parts connected to a woman who once meant something to me.
Consider me. Make me yours again.
I stared at the text message. Colette sure didn’t feel this way five months ago.
At her suggestion, we’d traveled to a steakhouse on the outskirts of the western suburbs. Not one of the newest, local hotspots, but a tried-and-true place known for its food and service. Valentine’s weekend was on steroids. Someone had filled the restaurant with flowers, candles, and balloons.
I had helped her onto a barstool and stood possessively close to her and ordered two Manhattans.
“Happy Valentine’s Day.” I smiled and leaned in to kiss her berry-red lips. She wore a short, black, long-sleeved sweater dress that floated along her curves. The thigh-skimming length made her legs appear to go on for miles, ending in tall, black heels. Her naturally straight hair was a mass of waves framing her shoulders.
“Happy Valentine’s Day. Thanks again for the flowers. My office smells wonderful. You’ll love my gift.”
“Give me a hint.” I kissed her temple.
“It’s soft, pink, and warm.”
“Hmm. I need more clues. Does it melt in my mouth? What about my touch?”
“Maybe . . .” She drawled the word out a few syllables. “I’ll give one more clue. It has your name written all over it.”
“Ahh. If it has my name on it, then that means it’s mine. All mine.” I spoke against the shell of her ear. She shivered as my warm breath tickled the lobe. I nipped at the delicate flesh, thrilled when she sucked in a rush of air. All the blood in my body flowed to my cock.
She placed a hand on my chest and gently pushed, putting space between our bodies. Her eyes darted nervously around the room.