“You earned it fair and square,” I assure her, reminding myself of my iron rule. “Every person I talked to mentioned you first, before their own people even. Seems you’ve left quite the impression in the short time you’ve been with us, Elle.”
Oh, I like the way that rolls off my tongue. Elle, Ellllllllllle.
“I’m glad to hear that, Dec.” She uses my nickname with such ease, almost as if it’s the only name she’s ever called me. “What’s going to happen to your division if you’re dedicated to this project?”
“Nothing. I’m doing both,” I explain. “I trust my people to do a good job without me breathing down their neck, and the reason I even chose a right hand for this project was to have another decision-maker in case security demands my full attention.”
“Makes sense.” Elle nods in thought, before turning a bright smile to me. “I’ll let you sneak out in peace now.”
“Or…” No, don’t do it. “You can sneak out with me for breakfast on the beach, so we can get to know each other better.” Aaaand, you just went and did it anyway. Moron.
“Oh, okay,” she replies as a reddish hue spreads up her neck to her cheeks.
“For work, of course,” I hurry to clarify, realizing, in hindsight, how suggestive that sounded. “I was planning on having one-on-ones with all the team members. Might as well start with you.”
Smooth, Declan, real smooth.
“Of course.”
“I’ll meet you outside in ten.”
After reaching my navy blue 1996 Pontiac Firebird Formula, I toss my jacket in the back seat and roll up my sleeves.
It’s warmed since an hour ago, and the scorching sun is high in the sky. I spent most of my adult life in the mid-west, and, somehow, even after five years, I haven’t gotten used to the LA weather.
“I’ve always wondered if you have any tattoos.” Elle’s soft voice carries from the bottom of the stairs. She’s standing there, big white sunglasses covering her eyes and that same teasing smile decorating her lips.
Stop with the warm and fuzzies, Declan! So what if she wondered? Big deal. Only, despite my best efforts to stop the giddiness, it’s there, and it doesn’t seem to want to budge.
“Yeah.” I lift my arm to examine the intricate black and red geometric pattern covering my entire left arm, hoping Eloise didn’t catch the joy radiating off me at her statement.
“Do they have a special meaning, or just decorative?” Elle wonders aloud, keeping a safe distance as she takes a closer look at my ink.
“Had it done when I made the bomb squad. There’s a tiger on my shoulder, where the pattern ends. It was to remind me of the importance of cold, logical thinking, but also of trusting my instincts when needed.”
“That’s really special, Dec.” Elle’s smile is bright, and I can’t stop the upward tug of my lips.
“Do you have any?” I ask, opening the passenger side door for her.
“I do.” Elle’s smile turns mischievous, and she gazes at me over the rim of her designer shades with a gleam in her eyes that could spell danger if I don't tread carefully. “I can’t expose it in public, though.”
Yes, definitely trouble.
“Oh, well.” I shrug with a grin, fighting my natural inclination to flirt. Elle raises an eyebrow in what seems to be skepticism but buckles herself in without saying a word.
Please let her be boring, or vapid, or even something small like ordering a salad when it’s obvious she wants a burger. Anything!
Of course, Elle is funny and smart, and I find myself spending the entire morning hanging on her every word while she digs into her steak and egg breakfast with an extra side of cheese fries.
Time to rip off that band-aid, cut it in the nub, kill it while it’s small.
“So, I want to clarify something since we’re going to work side by side for the foreseeable future,” I begin, pausing to take a sip of water.
“You have a strict no dating coworkers policy. I assume that applies tenfold for someone working under you.” She says it for me with a smile, and though part of my brain lingers on the Elle being ‘under me’ part, I force a sharp nod.
“Glad we’re on the same page, Elle.”
“This is the kind of opportunity a girl doesn’t waste for a bit of nookie with a boy.” Elle signals for the check. “I know the company doesn’t prohibit office romance, but I won’t risk the potential fruits of working on this project. Not even for you, Declan Moretti.”
She says it with a wink, but something about her smile makes me wonder if that joke wasn’t hiding a smidgen of truth in it.
Every joke does, though, doesn’t it?
“That’s good to hear, and I want you to know I will never do anything to compromise your very bright future,” I guarantee as I pull out my credit card and pay. “Come on, I’ll take you back to your car.”
3
Eloise
The sound of my front door opening vaguely registers through the muttered swears and bubbling jam in the pot.
“Oh, baby. You anger baking,” Connor observes as he walks into the kitchen, inspecting me as I mix my jam with a vengeance.
He’s all spruced up with skinny black jeans adorned in red trimmings and an equally tight evergreen t-shirt that brings out the brown of his chocolate eyes. The man is infuriatingly attractive, what with his strong jaw, smoldering eyes, and ripped physique. Even the color of his skin is like chocolate. He’s entirely yummy and absolutely gay.
We dated for about five minutes before Connor came to terms with his sexuality, and we’ve been best friends ever since.
“Did that fucker Declan refuse you?”
“Worse. I didn’t ask him, and now I never will.” I almost break the knob when turning off the stove.
“Why? Was he making out with that ugly-ass hoe from accounting?”
“What? No.” I frown, trying to remember which drunk night those words were issued. “He was promoted. As of Monday, he’s my direct supervisor.”
“Oh, so you can still fuck him between now and Monday.”
“No, I can’t.” I angrily ladle the hot jam into two large jars so it can cool down, plus a couple of small ones to hand out, getting purple goo all over my counter in the process. “Dec has this ‘no dating coworkers’ rule, which I figured he’d be willing to forgo for all of this—” I indicate my jam covered oversized T and yoga pants “—when I was in a different division. But as my boss? Nooooooo.” I shake my head as I attempt to clean the mess I made. “That line, he will never cross.”
“That’s just stupid.” Connor scowls, leaning his hip against the counter and crossing his arms over his broad chest.
“The worst part?” I sigh and mimic his position. “He took me out for a professional get-to-know-you breakfast that was anything but. We sat for hours, Con, laughing, and talking. It would have been a perfect first date, you know?”
“I’m sorry, boo.” Connor pats me on the shoulder, and I raise an eyebrow. “I am not hugging you until you change.”