We sat side-by-side at the dining room table, bottles of sparkling water and the cartons of food scattered between us.
"This is fantastic." She forked the rice and vegetables. "Chinese is my fave."
"I thought Italian was your favorite," I teased. I liked that Jasmine wasn't a shy eater. Since our first date at the burger place, she'd always shown a healthy appetite.
"I like it all."
"You're my favorite." Fuck. Hunter would ask for my man card if he heard me talking like this. I couldn't help exposing my feelings; I had no filter with Jasmine.
Her lips twitched at the comment before a slow smile stretched across her face.
"Garrett, do you cook?"
"I have basic cooking knowledge. I can make steak and baked potatoes, chili, and spaghetti, but my specialties are omelets and frittatas. A little green and red peppers, mushrooms, chopped up meat, and red onions are the makings of any egg dish. What about you? Are you gifted in the kitchen?"
"I can cook pretty much anything, but soul food is my favorite. My sister and I learned how to cook at the hands of our grandmother, Sugar. Each summer, my sister and I spent our summer in Alabama with her. She'd joked that there were no lazy pants under her roof, so she gave us mixing spoons as soon as we were tall enough to reach the countertops. Under her tutelage, we learned the fine art of picking greens, stirring roux, and frying chicken." She grinned. "Each week, my sister and I cook Sunday dinner for the family. She likes to fry, and I do the sides, but my specialties are desserts. I can make a mean layered lemon cake." She chuckled and shook her head. "The love for cooking skipped a generation. Honey, my mother, her specialty is making reservations." Jasmine's face lit up when she talked about her family.
My family was close, but over the years, distance had created small fissures in our dynamic. I wished we had closer bonds.
"Garrett, I feel like such a chatterbox around you. How was your week?"
“Better, now that you're here."
Working on the budget, coupled with Jeff and Nic's constant requests for updates, exhausted me. I looked forward to recuperating from the stressful week.
When we finished dinner, Jasmine stacked the tableware in the dishwasher while I discarded the takeout packaging. She returned to the living room with the opened bottle of wine and topped off both glasses. She kicked off her flip-flops and sat on the sofa. I pulled her feet onto my lap, slowly circling my thumbs along her calves. My eyes ogled her feet.
A gorgeous woman with pretty feet was my weakness, and Jasmine's beautiful high arches made me capitulate. My mouth watered at the sight of the prominent vein that ran to her perfectly shaped toenails. My finger ran along the curve of her arch. I dipped my head and lowered my face to kiss the top of her foot. She pulled her it away, threw her head back, and burst out laughing.
"My feet are ticklish." She breathed through the laugh.
I raised her foot to my mouth and kissed her ankle before running my tongue along the vein. Shivers of delight ran through her, so I bit her pinky toe. She swallowed a gasp.
"Don't get yourself into a situation that you can't get out of," she sang.
"What situation is that?" At that point, my dick was rock hard. I rested her foot on my erection. She raised up on her elbows and looked over at the tent in my sweats. Her eyes widened and sparkled.
"I'm a man, and men respond to beautiful women,” I shrugged.
"You're a huge man." Not taking her eyes off the swelling in my pants, a wicked grin fixed on her face. She moved her foot up and down my length. My breath caught and I widened my legs, a silent plea to continue. Her eyes danced in delight as she watched my face. She needed to stop, or I would come right there. I chuckled, tapped her calf, and moved her foot to my lap.
"Okay. You're giving me whiplash. Every time we take two steps forward, you apply the brakes. What's going on?"
"I didn't bring you here to fuck all weekend. I want to learn more about you.”
"What about work? How would your boss react? I don't think ER Wallace would care."
"So, about that. I have something I'd like to discuss with you." I inched closer to her and took her hand in mine. She flinched and reared back against the sofa cushions.
"What is it? You don't have a girlfriend, do you?"
"No. Not that." I sucked in a breath of air, and the next sentence came out in a whoosh. "Nic is actively working to sabotage the IPO. She's blackmailed me into working with her."
"Sabotage the IPO? Blackmail? None of this makes sense."
"Nic believes the public offering is a well-orchestrated plot to replace her with someone more experienced."
"Is she insane? A replacement will become a reality if she continues to sabotage, but wait, how does this involve me?"
"She demanded that I drag my feet on providing documents, be combative in response to your requests, and do anything to make the ER Wallace team look incompetent. If I didn't, then she would personally fire me. I cooperated for the first three weeks, but I liked you all too much to continue." My heart sank as she drew her hand from mine.
"This is where the blackmail falls in. What does Hunter think of this?"
"He doesn't know."
"Wow. Blackmail and financial sabotage directly violate Sarbanes-Oxley. As a shareholder, you have to report this or risk looking like you are complicit. Have you reached out to the corporate ethics line?"
"I have no facts. It's their word against mine."
"You can't take this lying down. If you don't call, I will."
"Come on, Jasmine. Whistleblower hotlines aren't anonymous. Look at what recently happened in politics. I don't want my name exposed; being an informant could follow my entire career. I'd no longer be the schmuck seated on the throne. I'd be the asshole who tried to stop a multi-billion dollar IPO. I'd like to forget everything. I didn't follow through with her plans, therefore, I've done nothing wrong."
She shook her head in exaggerated impatience. "To say nothing may open you up to bigger issues. When Nic goes down, do you want to be by her side when the Feds come knocking?"
Though our bodies were inches apart, our emotional connection was equal to the moment I'd demanded the status report. Disappointment seeped from her pores as she sat next to me with her arms folded across her chest. I was afraid our disagreement could be the fracture that broke us before our love affair began. Needing to forge our bond, I reached out for her hand.
"I hear you. I need time to wrap my head around my next steps. Promise that you'll give me time to do what's right."
"This is a lot to take in. Do you mind if I retire for the evening?"
"No, I don't. Sweet dreams."
"Goodnight." Her hand cupped my cheek as her thumb stroked my chin. Turning my face, I kissed her palm. She rose from the sofa, grabbed her iPad, and walked down the hallway to the master bedroom.
I spent the rest of the evening catching up on emails before I turned in. For the longest time, I stood outside the master bedroom door and contemplated knocking. I needed to talk to her and hold her—anything I could do to keep her from slipping from my grasp.
Seconds crept by as I tossed and turned all night, having visions of how her face crumpled when I revealed my actions. At the crack of dawn, I needed to work out my frustrations, so I started the day with a run. I replayed the last week's events during the entire three miles. I ran faster to relieve the building tension and to take my mind off the fact that a beautiful woman was sleeping in my bed. And I'd hurt her. As punishment, I ran until my calves screamed and my arches pounded.