"Yeah, I did." And I got riled up just thinking about it. We'd connected. I knew it. I'd wanted him more than anything last night, and today I wanted nothing to do with him ever again. "It was intense. The best sexual experience of my life, and he was right there with me. I know he was. First time he'd ever made it in a car, and he was kind of resistant at first, but then I got him so hot for it he couldn't say no."
"Really? Never?" He ran a hand over his morning stubble. "Most guys scratch car banging off their f**k list in high school. In fact, I can't think of anyone who didn't, except for the nerds and fuglies, and he's neither."
I shrugged. "I guess car banging makes me a slut."
Cary grew very still. "Is that what he said?"
"No. He didn't say shit. I got that from his 'friend,' Magdalene. You know that chick in most of the photos you printed off the Internet? She decided to sharpen her claws with a little catty girl chat in the bathroom."
"The bitch is jealous."
"Sexual frustration. She can't f**k him, because apparently girls who f**k him go into the discard pile."
"Did he say that?" Again, fury laced his quiet question.
"Not in so many words. He said he doesn't sleep with his female friends. He's got issues with women wanting more than a good time in the sack, so he keeps the women he bangs and the women he hangs out with in two separate camps." I took another sip of my coffee. "I warned him that sort of setup wasn't going to work for me and he said he'd make some adjustments, but I guess he's one of those guys who'll say whatever's necessary to get what he wants."
"Or else you have him running scared."
I glared. "Don't make excuses for him. Whose side are you on, anyway?"
"Yours, baby girl." He reached out and patted my knee. "Always yours."
I wrapped my hand around his muscular forearm and stroked my fingers gently along the underside in silent gratitude. I couldn't feel the multitude of fine white scars from cutting that marred his skin, but I never forgot they were there. I was thankful every day that he was alive, healthy, and a vital part of my life. "How'd your night go?"
"I can't complain." His eyes took on a mischievous glint. "I shagged that busty blonde in a maintenance closet. Her tits were real."
"Well, then." I smiled. "You made her night, I'm sure."
"I try." He picked up the phone receiver and winked at me. "What kind of delivery do you want? Subs? Chinese? Indian?"
"I'm not hungry."
"You're always hungry. If you don't pick something, I'll cook and you'll have to eat that."
I lifted my hand in surrender. "Okay, okay. You pick."
I got to work twenty minutes early on Monday, figuring I'd skip running into Gideon. When I reached my desk without incident, I felt such relief that I knew I was in serious trouble where he was concerned. My moods were shifting all over the place.
Mark arrived in high spirits, still floating from his major successes of the week before, and we dug right into work. I'd done some vodka market comparisons on Sunday and he was kind enough to go over those with me and listen to my impressions. Mark was also assigned the account for a new e-reader manufacturer, so we began the initial work on that.
With such a busy morning, time flew swiftly and I didn't have time to think about my personal life. I was really grateful for that. Then I answered the phone and heard Gideon on the line. I wasn't prepared.
"How's your Monday been so far?" he asked, his voice sending a shiver of awareness through me.
"Hectic." I glanced at the clock and was startled to see it was twenty minutes to noon.
"Good." There was a pause. "I tried calling you yesterday. I left a couple messages. I wanted to hear your voice."
My eyes closed on a deep breath. It had taken every bit of my willpower to make it through the day without listening to the voice mail. I'd even enlisted Cary in the cause, telling him to restrain me forcibly if it looked like I might succumb to the urge. "I did the hermit thing and worked a little."
"Did you get the flowers I sent?"
"Yes. They're lovely. Thank you."
"They reminded me of your dress."
What the hell was he doing? I was beginning to think he had multiple personality disorder. "Some women might say that's romantic."
"I only care what you say." His chair creaked as if he'd pushed to his feet. "I thought about stopping by...I wanted to."
I sighed, surrendering to my confusion. "I'm glad you didn't."
There was another long pause. "I deserved that."
"I didn't say it to be a bitch. It's just the truth."
"I know. Listen...I arranged for lunch up here in my office so we don't waste any of the hour leaving and getting back."
After his parting, I'll call you, I'd wondered if he would want to get together again after he settled down from whatever trip he'd been on. It was a possibility I'd been dreading since Saturday night, aware that I needed to cut him off, but feeling strung out from the desire to be with him. I wanted to experience again that pure, perfect moment of intimacy we'd shared.
But I couldn't justify that one moment against all the other moments when he made me feel like crap.
"Gideon, we don't have any reason to have lunch together. We hashed things out Friday night, and we...took care of business Saturday. Let's just leave it at that."
"Eva." His voice turned gruff. "I know I f**ked up. Let me explain."
"You don't have to. It's okay."
