KICKOFF
Travis eyed Eric as he walked into the boardroom Thursday morning, a legal file tucked behind his wrist. This was normally the part where Travis would take a jab or two at Eric for the suit he chose to wear that day. "Look at you, GQ," he might say. "Trying to impress someone today? What's with the designer duds?"
Except that Travis looked down at his own attire and couldn't say a word.
Ironically enough, it was Eric that caught his eye and raised a curious eyebrow at him. Travis met his glance only for a second, scowling at him as he busied himself with making sure his own presentation was in the correct order.
Travis had a hard time defining what he felt that morning. He did know that he felt a little silly in the black and white business suit that he wore. His lack of tie and the loose buttons that hung off of his neck helped his comfort level but the low ponytail that he had slicked his hair back in made him nervous all over again.
Beth ate up the suit, though. Last night he had done it all. He wore a tie and he brought roses to her door. "Wow, what's the occasion?" She'd grinned. "I know you said 'nice' but I wasn't expecting this." After she'd mauled him and assaulted his lips and repeatedly told him how gorgeous he was, she rushed away to change into a dress that hugged her so right it nearly brought him to his knees.
Sitting in the back of the limo he'd rented, she happily sipped on a glass of champagne as she asked him, "What's with all this?"
He had taken her by her free hand and replied with, "I wanted to show you how important you are to me. I wanted to take you out on the town, complete with all the bells and whistles."
"You know you don't have to pull out all the stops to make me happy."
Then he'd smirked and looked her over. "Believe me, seeing you in that dress was worth it."
After some wining and dining at a swanky Italian restaurant, he was treated to a very appreciative blow job in the back of the limo as they rode back to her apartment. God, he couldn't wait for the next couple of days when she would be cleared for sex again.
This morning, however, he was all business, from head to toe, only looking up from the review of his notes as Eric greeted Kim as she walked into the room. Curious at her presence, he watched in silence as she set up a laptop at the head of the table, inches away from where he sat. Before he could question her, Walt wheeled in a large, flat screen TV on a portable TV stand. At this, Travis finally had to stifle a laugh. "What the hell is this?"
"Well, eventually we'll have a TV mounted to the wall to make this a little easier in the future," Eric replied as they watched Kim's swift hands hook up the electronics.
"Make what easier?" Travis replied.
"Kim and I have been working on this presentation for about a week now. This is the future, Travis. Better interaction leads to a better team."
"And?"
Eric's eyes darted into his brother's. Shrugging sheepishly, he nodded. "And, yeah, so Juliet's presentation is digital, too. So what? I prefer we progress with a constantly progressive company--"
"You're trying to get on a level playing field..."
"Yeah? Well, so are you, GQ," Eric spat.
Ouch. There it was.
As Kim hooked up equipment and tested the computer presentation, Travis turned his attention to his twin once again. He watched Eric as he carefully organized packets of information at each place setting, with no surprise at his meticulous organizational skills. Eric had always had a touch of what Travis lovingly called OCD. Everything always had to be clean, symmetrical, and perfectly arranged according to size and shades of color. Of course, Travis didn't feel like Eric's habits were worth a diagnosis--and they could certainly be a pain in the ass sometimes--but it was part of what made Eric who he was and so Travis endured it without complaint.
What had caught his attention, however, was the brightly-colored gloss of the menus that Eric included in everyone's packet of information. Finally, Travis had to know what was up. "Eric," he shook his head. "Seriously, what is all this? We never conduct our meetings like this. All of a sudden we're sitting here in suits with computers and TV's and we're--we're ordering in lunch? Since when?"
Eric let out a breath and looked across the table at his mirror image, placing his hands on his hips. "I thought some about what you said yesterday. About trying harder and being better. Sure, we're a construction company. But we're also a group of professionals and it's time we operated as such. And I figure what better way to start than with one of the city's most professional companies--and most professional business owners? Right? I mean, look at you. Even you dressed the part this morning."
Travis sighed, defeated. "Look, I'm not knocking it. It's just...weird."
"Change is always odd at first. But we'll get used to it, no sweat."
"Mr. Reynolds," Kim spoke up from behind her black-rimmed glasses and newly blonde ponytail.
"Please. Call me Eric," Eric smiled.
Travis furrowed his brow. "How you know she wasn't talking to me?"
Kim glanced at Travis and smirked. "I wasn't."
Travis scowled and pretended to leaf through his paperwork.
"I think I have this all hooked up. I just need to test it, if you don't mind," she said.
"Absolutely, have at it," Eric replied. "As a matter of fact, how would you like to sit in on the meeting in case anything goes wrong? I, uh, I think Miss Carson's presentation is digital, as well."
Kim but couldn't help but stifle a giggle. "You think?"
Eric's face turned red as he looked around and adjusted his suit jacket. "Would you just be our technical backup today?" He muttered.
"Of course. I'd be honored."
"Thank you."
At that, Travis shook his head and scoffed to himself.
Across the room, Eric tried to escape the room, only to find himself face-to-face with Juliet and her small team.
_____________________________________
Juliet wore red. Eric loved it when she wore red. Red was the color of power. And dominance. And on Juliet, red was nothing more than pure, unadulterated, hot sex.
He couldn't help his eyes as they trailed down her body, detailing the way the tight, red dress fell dangerously high above her knees, covered by a modest black, three-quarter sleeved blazer that just strategically hung to cover her rear end. She wore high, black stiletto pumps and damn her if she didn't let her hair flow freely down her back. In essence, she looked completely professional, even down to the glasses she wore on her face to downplay what she had to know would happen in Eric's pants upon sight of her. When her blazer shifted as she switched her briefcase from one hand to the other, he caught a glimpse of cleavage and it was all over.
She was the devil.
"Mr. Reynolds," she smiled sweetly, breaking his heart and bringing him back down to Earth with a crash. "Good morning."
"Call me Eric, you don't have to pretend that much," he muttered. "We can do professional, but don't act like you don't know me."
"I've never done this before," she whispered. "Please be patient."
"You look obscenely ravishing," he whispered.
"My staff is behind me," she whispered back.
Embarrassed for the second time that morning, he cleared his throat so that Juliet could enter the board room. He couldn't help his eyes as they glanced downward as she passed, her perfectly-sculpted, long legs making him weak at his knees. Then he pulled it together and smiled at Beth as she walked in behind her, but was completely caught off guard at the large hulk that he would have come face-to-face with, had he not had to look up the extra inches to meet his eyes.
Eric was surprised, and a little put off, buy the large, Greek Adonis that stood before him, hand extended, with a smile that nearly blinded Eric with dental perfection. His eyes were ocean blue, his golden blonde hair in a slicked back, high ponytail that suggested that his hair normally fell to his shoulders, and his jawline was so square and so sharp that he probably could have opened a metal can with his face without batting an eyelash.
Hesitantly, Eric accepted the hand that peeked out from behind a gray Armani sleeve, and shook it, equally startled by the firm handshake. "Eric Reynolds," he introduced himself, standing taller and straightening his spine. "Nice to meet you."
"Sven Mitchum," the Adonis replied, still grinning. "Pleasure."
As Eric's hair began to stand on end, he cleared his throat and motioned with his arm. "Please, have a seat. We'll be getting started soon."
Eric watched as Sven took his seat, flaring his nostrils, not at the fact that he sat between Beth and Juliet, but at how close he sat to Juliet and how their heads automatically seemed to glue themselves together over paperwork they'd brought along. Eric didn't like this. He didn't know Sven, he'd never heard of Sven, and he didn't like Sven. Why had Juliet never mentioned this guy? Was this what Eric had to look forward to? Did Juliet only handpick and hire models and gorgeous people? The thought unnerved him.
Eric wasn't sure why he expected more people on her end to show up. Then again, his kickoff meetings usually only really consisted of project managers and sales representatives. This was a special case. This was someone who already had a plan, already knew exactly what she wanted and how she wanted it. This was also someone who had his heart. This wouldn't be any ordinary meeting, tossing around plans just to see what works and what have you. This was a meeting about Eric doing anything and absolutely everything Juliet wanted in order to make her happy. He just wanted to make her dreams come true. Nothing more, nothing less.
He sneered as he wondered if Sven knew anything about making Juliet's dreams come true.
Jesus, he had to get a grip here, the guy only worked for her. What the hell was he worrying about?
Half an hour later, Juliet had set her presentation up with Kim, pitchers of water had made their ways around the table, and everyone was settled comfortably in their seats. Eric had just prepared to get started when Hilary walked in, a pad and paper in hand. "Mr. Reynolds," she said quietly.
"Call me Eric," he corrected. He was beginning to feel like a broken record. How many times did he have to correct everyone?
"Um, I'm sorry," she blushed. "I came to get the lunch order."
He stared back at her blankly.
"So I can go ahead and call it in so it can get here in time?"
"Oh!" He replied, feeling the proverbial light bulb switch itself on in his head. "Yes! Of course. Thank you."
As Hilary went around the table collecting orders, quiet murmuring sounded around everyone. Juliet remained cozy with Sven, causing a scowl to grace Eric's face. As Hilary came around, taking Beth and Sven's orders, Juliet seemed lost in her own world. As soon as Sven was finished speaking to Hilary, Juliet wasted no time jumping right back in. "As I was saying," she murmured. "You know I trust you, Sven. But I'd like to at least try it this way just to see what happens."
Eric's stomach churned.
"That's an awfully big risk," Sven's deep voice replied. "Even the best construction companies would struggle with pulling that off."
"They are the best," she shot at him, jerking her head back. "That's why we're here."
Eric smiled at his small, silent victory before he noticed that poor Hilary stood there looking lost as she waited on Juliet. Discreetly, Eric pulled her over, ordered for both himself and Juliet, and sent Hilary on her way.
Upon hearing the board room door click closed, Juliet jumped up, her head whipping around. "Is she gone? I didn't put my order in."
"You can share mine," Sven offered.
"I took care of it," Eric interjected, his eyes glancing into Sven's.
Turning her torso around in her chair, she faced Eric. "What do you mean, you took care of it?" She hissed.
"I know what you eat," he winked. "It's okay."
"No. No, it's--I already knew what I wanted, she just came through here so fast--"
"I'm having the grilled chicken salad, extra cheese, with vinegarette and a cup of lobster bisque on the side. I ordered you the same."
"Oh, please, you wouldn't come within a five-mile radius of a salad," she sneered at him, unaware of her sudden rise in volume.
"Oh?" He arched an amused eyebrow. "And how do you know what I eat, Miss Carson?"
He smirked at her as her face turned red and he knew he'd just beat her at her own game. Flustered, her eyes darted around a silent table, and she lifted her chin and replied quietly, "I think we're ready to start this meeting."
And then, suddenly, Eric grew nervous.
Clearing his throat, he stood up and took his place at the end of the large, oval-shaped table. As soon as his father had cleaned out his office and headed to Rhode Island, Eric had wasted absolutely no time remodeling the old, stuffy board room. He got rid of the heavy, mahogany, intimidating, rectangular table and replaced it with a large, oval shape made from lighter wood. Eric didn't believe in sitting at the head of the table and conducting his meetings by way of intimidation. He sat at his father's right for several years watching him do just that and Eric vowed that that was not the kind of boss he wanted to be. Eric believed that the best workers came from respectful workers and respect was earned by giving your employees the same respect you would want them to give to you. Eric took the blows from his father, even still, when he accused him of being soft-hearted or too easy on his employees, but the truth was, Eric's turnover rate was much lower than his father's was. A sound, profitable, and successful company kept its employees, not chased them away.
However, this was the first time he'd ever conducted a meeting quite this formal, and while he knew for a fact that his own staff was silently calling bullshit on him--and Travis pretty much having his number on trying to impress Juliet--the three representatives from Carson Innovations looked at him expectantly, as if this sort of thing was second nature to them. Because it was. Because Juliet conducted herself with the utmost professionalism a minimum of forty hours per week. He stood there and he looked at her and he was immediately inspired.
Clearing his throat one more time, he moved his suit jacket out of the way so that he could comfortably shove his hands inside his pockets. "Good morning," he began. "I'd like to thank you all for being here on such short notice for this kickoff meeting on, uh, the relocation of Carson Innovations. Most of you here know me, I'm Eric Reynolds, President and CEO of Reynolds Construction and Project Manager of this particular project." Upon hearing his own words, realizing that the only person who sat there that didn't know him was Sven, his hands left his pockets and he became more comfortable in his speech. After all, just as Juliet had so deliciously reminded him, this was his company. It was his staff and his power. Everyone looked up to him. Why shouldn't he be someone they could trust and look up to? Motioning to each person as he spoke, he introduced his staff. "To my left, here, is Walter Reynolds, Vice President of Operations and Head of Sales. Next to him is Travis Reynolds, Senior Site Manager. Next to Travis is Paul Heald, who will serve as General Foreman on this project. Paul was handpicked by both Travis and myself, as he is the very best foreman in the industry as far as we're concerned. And then joining us today is Kim Middlebrook, the head of our IT department, taking time out of her day especially to help us make sure that we don't break the equipment in here." Light laughter surrounded the table as Eric turned his attention to the woman who made his heart pound uncontrollably every time he laid eyes on her. "And now I'll let Miss Carson have the floor so that she may tell you a little bit about herself and her company."
To Eric's surprise, her brown eyes locked on his and they read absolute terror. He would have never guessed, in a million years, that something like this would ever make her nervous, but her expression, discreet as it was, deafeningly screamed at him and he knew he was the only one who could hear it. He longed to hold her hand and kiss her cheek and tell her that everything was okay. But he couldn't. So he hoped that the gentle nod he directed at her was enough to get the message across.
________________________________________________
Juliet wore red on purpose.
She'd left Eric's early that morning so that she could go home and get ready for the day. She'd woken up with her nerves shot and she didn't think she could handle getting ready for this meeting with him. She didn't want him to know how terrified she was, because she couldn't understand it herself. This was her building, her project, her company's relocation--she knew all the ins and outs because it was hers. She almost didn't even need to prepare for it.
Except that it was Eric. And while she swooned upon sight of him and her heart soared at the touch of his hand, she still wasn't ready to become this completely dependent on him--professionally or otherwise.
And so, she wore red. She wore red and showed off her legs because she knew that was Eric's weakness. And as long as she had Eric in the palm of her hand, her control level was higher along with her comfort level. That was the only way she knew she would get through this meeting.
Except all of that flew right out the window when she laid eyes on him in his board room. She'd never seen a more perfectly-tailored suit on a man, a deep navy blue with white pinstripes so light that they were barely there. His blue eyes popped and sparkled against the dark hue of his wardrobe. His collared shirt underneath was as pale a blue as you could find, set off with a deep, burgundy necktie that Juliet instantly fantasized about tying around her own neck and surprising him in nothing but that and a pair of stilettos.
God, he was breathtaking in blue. And she was pretty sure he knew it, too.
Watching him address the table and open the meeting had been a turn-on like no other. The way he spoke with authority, the way he carried himself in confidence and the respect that was paid to him for it was enough to form stars in her eyes and to make her ache under her skirt.
She had been mesmerized by him, completely lost in her own feelings and fantasies, when he'd turned the floor over to her to introduce herself and her company. Caught off guard, it took her a moment for her to get her bearings before she responded.
Clearing her throat with a smile, she stood up carefully and blushed as she smoothed out her dress. "Um, thank you, Mr. Reynolds--ah, Eric." She replied, testing her professional waters. After all, Eric had a point--everybody already knew they were on a first-name basis, anyway. Right?
Eric beamed, keeping it as casual as he could as he reclaimed his chair beside her. Now being the center of attention in the room, Juliet began to ease into her routine. "Good morning. My name is Juliet Carson and I am the co-founder, co-owner, CEO, and lead designer for Carson Innovations. The lovely lady with me today is Beth Knight, co-founder, co-owner, and lead architect. And this," she motioned next to her, "is Sven Mitchum, our project manager."
"Project manager?" Eric asked with confusion in his voice.
"Yes," she replied, meeting the confused look on his face that matched his tone. "Project manager. He knows everything there is to know about this project, probably more than myself. He'll be absolutely qualified to handle any and everything that needs to be handled when I'm not around to do it myself."
"Not around?" Eric pressed. "You made it pretty clear that you were practically going to smother me until this project was finished..."
Eric's tone and his words were starting to make Juliet uncomfortable. She was uncomfortable because he was too comfortable. It was no secret that the two of them knew each other on a first-name basis, but it was not necessary for everyone to know exactly how well they knew each other. And Eric was riding the line.
"Well, I'm only one person," she smiled nervously, trying to keep it together. "I have other projects I'm working on, as well, I can only be in one place at a time."
"So do I," he muttered flatly as his narrowed eyes stared her down.
She felt her hands tremble with nerves, so she shoved them in her blazer pockets and shook her hair off of her shoulder. Clearing her throat, she continued. "I assume that you all have a copy of the contract in front of you, so if you flip through it, you'll notice that I have designated Eric as the sole, primary project manager for this relocation. I'm sure that you can respect the fact that when it comes to your home and your livelihood, it's not preferable for you to take any chances. I honestly wasn't sure how this company operated when I proposed the contract, I only knew that I was familiar with the quality of Reynolds' work and that was good enough for me. So I drew up a contract, presented it to Eric, and practically groveled for his help." She paused as light laughter murmured throughout the room. "With that being said, I trust that Eric will handle this project with care and to the very best of his abilities, with this very best people, and that is why you all are sitting in this board room this morning. So thank you."
"Thank you," Eric replied solemnly and sincerely.
Juliet glanced his way and smiled briefly, unable to shake her nerves. He made her nervous. She expected his presence, alone, to be her comfort and her salvation, but it was completely the opposite. She was terrified. She was terrified to fumble her words, forget her thoughts, drop pens or paper or even trip over her own heels. Had it finally happened? Had she met her match with Eric's dominance, intimidation, and professionalism?
Intimidation? Was she intimidated by him?
"So," she smiled once more, letting out a breath. "I'll turn the floor back over to Eric and he will let you know what's in store for our little project."
As she sat, Eric stood, a boyish grin creeping across his face that was accompanied by a twinkle in his eye as he addressed the table. "Okay," he said, clapping his hands together. "The name of the game is to tear this sucker down and put it back up. Right this second, we don't have a deed, so we don't have a schedule, but that will be another meeting once Carson Innovations closes on the property. Meanwhile, if you'll flip through your binders, there, you'll find pictures of the property and all the specs and stats to go along with it." Pausing, he directed his attention to the girl in the glasses. "Kim, if you will."
Quickly, she rushed to the end of the table, brushed her fingers swiftly along the keyboard of the laptop that sat there, and then crossed the room and hit half the lights. Pulling up a chair, she concentrated harder on the laptop as the images showed up on a TV screen at the front of the room. As Kim typed and Eric gestured all over the screen, displaying his knowledge and prowess of the demolition process, Juliet found herself lost in him all over again. She couldn't help herself. She'd spent her entire life dreaming of a man just like him, of a man who had it together and was handsome and sweet and intelligent and caring and generous--he was everything she wanted and everything she needed.
And she was a hot mess. She would never be good enough for him.
The realization hit her like a ton of bricks and, suddenly, it became difficult to concentrate. She turned her attention to her water glass in an effort to stave off any emotions that she knew would rise in her if she thought any more about it and she feared that she might have a panic attack right there in the middle of the meeting.
"Juliet," Sven said to her softly. "Juliet?"
"Hm?" She replied, looking over at him.
"You're up."
"I'm what?"
"You're up. They've demoed the building and gotten rid of the debris. Now they're ready to rebuild it. That's where you come in."
Blinking at Sven rapidly, she looked around and noticed the lights were on and the presentation was no longer on the screen. When had that happened? When did Eric finish talking?
Juliet looked over Sven and into Beth's eyes, hoping that she could read her silent plea for help. She was in no hurry to elaborate, she just needed Beth to hold her up and keep her from falling. Thankfully, because the pair were so in tune with each other, Beth darted from her seat and retrieved the two long, cardboard tubes that leaned against the wall behind them. Juliet spoke as she took out the poster-sized sheets and spread them across the table, holding them down with small paper weights she'd brought along. "These that I have here are rough drafts of the smaller scale prints that Beth is handing to you now. I just wanted something on a bit of a larger scale so that we could all be on the same page and you could all have your own mobile copies." Suddenly, out of nowhere, it felt like it was a thousand degrees in there. Was it just her? She didn't know, but the change was noticeable enough for her to look up and glance around at Travis running his hand along the back of his neck and Walter loosening up his tie. "It's hot as the blazes in here," Juliet said, standing up and fanning herself. "Can we maybe open the door or something? Is it just me?"
"I'm so sorry," Kim said sheepishly as she jumped up from her chair. "Sometimes the heat can be a little overpowering in this room. I was hoping it wouldn't suffocate us today, but I guess we couldn't get that lucky."
"I'd crack a window, but it would freeze us out. Can't win for losing," Eric's voice came with a light chuckle from the chair beside her. Looking around and glancing down at him, she nearly fainted on the spot. He had removed his suit jacket as a result of the heat, loosened his tie ever so slightly, and rolled his cuffs up his forearms. The pale blue button-down fit him so perfectly that she could see his shape through the chest and the sleeves and, in her mind, she was swinging a leg over his lap and tearing his shirt open right there in front of God and everybody.
After a minute or two, they found relief through the dropping of a couple of degrees and Juliet was more than ready to get back to her blueprints. Anything to keep her eyes off of Eric, anything at all. Armed with a pencil in her hand, she leaned over the table to point out the key areas on the blueprints, taking no time at all to get completely lost in her work and her concentration. Before long, she was answering questions from Travis and Paul and the three of them, along with Beth, began to dominate the topic. Finally, Juliet was comfortable. She was calm and she was cool and she had finally found her niche in this meeting. Everything was going to be okay.
Until she felt the hand creeping around her left knee.
Her breath caught in her throat and she hoped no one noticed it. She felt Eric's hand stop on the inside of her knee as his thumb gently caressed her skin. Normally, this type of behavior would turn her on, but in this moment, she was appalled by his audacity. Glancing down at him, his left elbow rested on the table as he leaned over it to get a view of her blueprint, but it was obviously a cover for his ulterior motive. She could commend him for being subtle and unnoticeable, but she was too taken aback by his bold behavior. Reacting instinctively, she straightened her spine and squeezed her knees together right onto Eric's knuckles, looking down at him deliberately. "Is there a problem, Mr. Reynolds?" She spat.
He winced in pain as he fought to cover it up and Juliet lifted her chin in defiance because it served him right to try something so stupid in the presence of both of their staffs. As he held his hands together under the table, nursing his wounds and his hurt pride, she watched his eyes dart over the table, and then his expression changed. "Actually, yeah," he said. "There is a problem." Bringing his hands back up, he took his blueprint copy in his hand, skimmed it, and then looked up at her larger version. "Your measurements are wrong."
Immediately, Juliet was on the defensive. "My measurements are not wrong. They are spot on, I think I know my own project--"
"That may be so," Eric replied, rising from his chair and leaning over the table alongside her. Then he pointed at several places on her poster. "But these measurements here, here, here, and here? Those are impossible. To scale, that would make this building take up, like, two blocks." Then he gave her his smaller copy. "Here. Look at it."
"Juliet," Beth said gently, taking a copy in her hand, as well. "He's right. I mean, they're almost right, it's an easy fix. It looks like the numbers are just transposed, that's all."
"Well, that's--that's just--" Juliet was flustered and her eyes blinked wildly. She was never wrong in a meeting. She was always prepared, her paperwork was always flawless, and she wouldn't tolerate any less from herself or her company. But today? What the hell was wrong with her today?
She felt the blood rise in her cheeks as Eric's left hand gently took the pencil from her own and he began to erase and rewrite her marks. She was too mortified to concentrate on how sexy Eric looked with his hand nearly upside down as he wrote. Being left-handed seemed to suit him. But she would have to revisit that later. Right now, she had to save her own face.
Attempting a strong smile, she flipped her hair off of her shoulder and glanced around the table. "Well, I suppose that's what happens when you get in a rush. Like I said, these are merely a rough draft for emphasis, but what you all are holding are the real figures, no transpositions."
Turning his head toward her, Eric winked at her as he sat back down. The gesture should have melted her heart, but instead, she wanted to have a complete meltdown. Maybe she was too hard on herself, she didn't know, but this meeting just seemed to be going from bad to worse.
When it was time to finally recess for lunch, Juliet couldn't make it to the restroom fast enough. Closing herself into the intimate, single room with the low light and zen-esque décor, she braced herself against the back of the door and closed her eyes, sucking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly. Was this what it was going to be like to work with Eric? Was she going to be nervous and too afraid to move around him for fear that she would screw everything up? Because she sure was doing a damn fine job of that today.
Once she'd collected herself and calmed herself down for the moment, she opened the door and was startled to find Eric standing there. God, please, no. Please don't try to attempt sex in the bathroom. Not right now.
To her surprise, he shoved his hands in his pockets. "Are you okay?"
Her eyes darted around behind him and then she glared at him. "Could you say that a little louder?"
"What?"
"I mean, you've had no problem displaying my shortcomings for the world to see all morning, why should lunch be any different, right?"
"Jules, what are you talking about?"
And then she froze. Did she really want to tell him? Did she want to admit that she'd been humiliated? Nervous and afraid? She could tell him anything and she knew it. But where did one draw the line with that?
"Jules," he pressed gently. "Kiss me."
Finally, she snapped back to the present. "What?"
"Everything's okay. Just kiss me. Maybe it'll calm you down a little bit. Relieve some tension..."
"Who said I needed to be calm--?"
"Your eyes. The tone of your voice, your shaking hands, everything. Kiss me."
"Stop reading me."
"Would you rather I not be able to read you? Would you rather not have someone who knows you and understands you?"
"Eric..."
But it was too late. He was coming toward her and she was backing back through the bathroom door, knowing she was unable to speak because the sound would carry through the echoes of their voices.
Gently, he closed and locked the door behind them and then he turned and looked at her. Taking her face softly in his hands, he swept his thumbs along her cheekbones before his lips sweetly met hers. With his kiss, she melted, and when he opened his mouth to deepen it, she was ready to devour him.
Wrapping her arms around his neck, she anxiously backed him into the wall, their breathing growing heavier, their kisses growing hungrier and more desperate. He countered her action within seconds by pushing her off of him, backing her across the small room and boosting her up onto the corner of the marble counter top of the sink. He yanked her dress hurriedly up over her thighs as she unbuckled his belt with lightning speed, and within just a few more seconds, he was inside her with her legs wrapped around his waist and her hands gripping the edges of the counter behind her.
She stared up into his intense blue eyes, knowing that neither of them could utter a single sound and their breathing was already deafening her ears. With an arm gripping her tightly around her waist and the other hand with a death grip on her thigh, it was over as quickly as it started and, despite any fancy noises or positions, it was probably the hottest sex they had had to date. Her orgasm was explosive and intense and she threw her head back as she bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut so as not to make a sound because she knew that if she did, it would have likely been a blood-curdling scream. That was what he did to her, all the time. It was what kept her wanting more and more of him, her appetite for him as insatiable as anything she'd ever felt.
By the time they'd collected themselves and returned as casually as possible to the board room, lunch was fully underway. She had assumed that maybe Eric was right and kissing him would have calmed her nerves--and if the kissing him wouldn't then the quickie sex sure would have. Except that it didn't. It seemingly made it worse. Upon sitting down at the table, her nerves were back in full swing. She thought that, for, sure, she had "Eric and I just fucked" flashing in bright, neon lights across her forehead. Her body was relaxed, relieved, and satisfied. Her brain, unfortunately, was not. Couldn't this meeting be over already?
___________________________
Eric hadn't planned on that quickie at all. It wasn't even in the realm of possibilities. He thought he'd been doing good just trying to steal a kiss in a dark corner. He never once thought he'd find himself up her skirt in the bathroom with their colleagues just a few doors down. In those precious few minutes, if she could have gotten pregnant, he would have given her twins. At least. Guaranteed.
Satisfied and happy, he tried to keep his smiles to a minimum as he walked back into the board room. What they had just done was raunchy and unprofessional, hot as it was, and it was probably in their best interest that nobody even suspect that they'd been alone together at all. Juliet was right. It was best to keep it professional.
The second half of the meeting contained the meat and potatoes of the project. Travis presented the details of the company's intentions in constructing the building, Paul went over the equipment and the manpower that would be required, and Sven presented the three-dimensional multimedia presentation of the expected completed product. Sven's blue eyes twinkled as he spoke, his posture oozed confidence, and his tone suggested significant over-achievement. Glancing around the room, Eric's stomach churned as Juliet smiled up at Sven, and he was equally as taken aback when even Kim seemed to be mesmerized by him. Eric didn't understand why he was so bent out of shape over this guy. He wasn't the one who was pawing all over Juliet in the bathroom, was he?
As a whole, however, Eric felt good about the meeting. The two groups seemed to mesh, everyone seemed to get along, and there was a general comfort in the overall atmosphere. All in all, the kickoff meeting had been a success.
But, then, there was Juliet. Once the meeting was over, she couldn't seem to get out of there fast enough and he was hardly able to say two words to her before she rushed onto the elevator. She'd said she was running behind on some work back at the office that had to be completed before the day was out, but Eric wasn't sure if he was buying it or not. He was aware of her staffing situation so he could understand the legitimacy of her excuse. But in a way, it felt like that was all it was--an excuse. Was he thinking too much into it or was there a deeper issue that he needed to address?
Eric wasn't sure. But he was welcoming of the distraction that came from Travis's and Walt's smiling faces after the Carson Innovations camp had left the building. Shamelessly, for the rest of the afternoon, the three men spoke in gleeful detail of the possibilities in Reynolds Construction's future.
*************
The evening air was cold and crisp as the overcast clouds loomed over Manhattan. They threatened rain, though Eric wished for snow, as he sat high in his truck, waiting for the car to finish moving itself from the curb that he was about to park himself on. Leaning over and looking up out his window, he searched the tall office building for the light in Juliet's office, knowing it was a futile effort. There was no way of knowing exactly which window was hers, so he knew he had to take his chances that she may still be up there--especially since she hadn't returned his text from a short while ago.
Finally, after what felt like years, the person got their car out of the way and Eric advanced. Then he nearly got into it with a person who thought they were going to cut him off and claim the space for themselves, causing Eric to roll down his window, holler out a few choice four-letter words, and follow up with the grand finale hand gesture. Naturally, he won out in the end, but he prepared himself in case the opposing driver got brave and decided to step out of the car.
The physical altercation never happened, however, as the driver drove away, and Eric made his way up to Carson Innovations' floor, unscathed.
Upon stepping off the elevator and into the hallway, he stopped at the door to Carson Innovations and was surprised to find it unlocked. It was after five o'clock and, though he didn't know the ins and outs of how she ran her operation, he supposed he expected the firm to be locked down and closed up at five on the nose. When it wasn't, he decided this was his lucky day.
Unlucky for the girl at the front desk, whom he'd startled with his presence, walking into a lobby where the lights were, indeed, turned off, signifying that they were closed. Blinking at him, she paused to catch her breath for a moment before she breathed, "Um, can I help you?"
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," he smiled. "I'm Eric Reynolds. I was just checking to see if Miss Carson was still in."
"Yeah," she smiled. "She's in her office right across the hall, there. I can get her on the phone--"
"No need," he smiled again. "Thank you."
Making his way across the tiled floor, he found her door closed as he stood outside it. Knocking gently with his knuckle, he waited a second before he opened the door and let himself inside. "Babe?" He said quietly, with a smile. "I thought I might surprise you and...um..."
He stood there for a moment before he closed the door behind him, eying Juliet curiously as she sat behind her desk. Papers were strewn all over the surface, including all over her laptop which lay open on one side of the desk while she pecked furiously on the keyboard of the desktop computer on the other side. Her glasses were on her face, her black blazer thrown listlessly onto the white leather sofa by her desk, and her hair pulled back in a careless mess out of her face and off her shoulders. She looked like she'd been to hell and was trying to claw her way back from it.
Upon sight of him, she took off her glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose, collapsing her elbow onto the desk in exasperation. "What are you doing here?"
"Well," he began warily. "Um, normally your face lights up when I enter a room..."
"I'm sorry," she sighed, sitting back in her chair. "I'm sorry, I just--I'm just trying to get this done so I can get out of here. I've been at it for...for much too long and I just need to...to get it done."
"It's okay," he replied. "I understand. I can wait."
"It's probably better that you don't. Unless you don't mind sleeping on leather couches."
"Come on," he smiled, walking up to her desk. "It can't be that bad. Mind if I ask what you're working on?"
"Payroll."
"Payroll?" He asked, confused. "Don't you have someone in Personnel--?"
"Not payroll in the traditional sense, payroll, like--I mean, it's time for bonuses to come up, so I'm crunching numbers, prepping the records to send to Payroll so they can pay them when it's time...I go through this every year. And the more money the company makes, the harder it gets."
"But it's the same process," he offered.
"It is. And it's time-consuming. And this time I've...well, I've hit a rough patch. I don't know if I've fucked up or if my brain has given out on me or what. I hate numbers. And numbers hate me."
"And, yet, the company you own is primarily based around numbers," Eric smirked.
"Don't remind me." Then she sighed and put her glasses back on, turning her attention back to the computer as she turned a sheet over in front of her. "I'm gonna be here awhile."
"Well, then, it's my lucky day," he grinned. "Because so am I."
Finally, he garnered a grin out of her as she shook her head at the computer screen. "Suit yourself. Don't say I didn't warn you."
Happily, Eric made himself comfortable on the couch, wriggling himself down into it. Unable to resist, he shamelessly stared at Juliet, his eyes automatically trailing downward, and then frowning at the large, bulky nature of her desk. He couldn't see her legs, but he spied what looked like the spike end of a stiletto peeking out from underneath of it, indicating that she sat there without her shoes on. Amused, he shook his head and pulled his phone out of his pocket, choosing to occupy his time by texting his brother with useless, mindless conversation. "Hey, so are you a leg man or a boob man?"
"You conducting a survey?" Travis texted back.
"Maybe you're an ass man."
"What?"
"Foot fetish?"
"What the fuck? Is this Eric ? Did somebody jack your phone?"
"I think I've decided I'm a leg man. Maybe it depends on the woman?"
"I don't know. I mean, Beth's got a pretty hot rack. On her, I guess I'm a boob man."
"What about that night you almost made it with Juliet?"
"Is this gonna get me in trouble?"
"Humor me."
"Nah. I just wanted to nail Juliet for curiosity's sake. She's got a hot rack, too, but it wasn't high on my priority list."
"So then it does depend on the woman."
"I guess. Why are you asking me this?"
"Because I'm bored."
"You're fucking kidding."
"What are you doing right now?"
"Exchanging dirty texts with Beth. And praying like hell that I don't accidentally text you instead."
"Seriously?"
"Seriously."
"That's kinda fucked up, man. You should have just ignored me."
"Yeah...that would have been smart."
"I'm done with this convo dude."
"Thank God."
Shaking his head, Eric closed the text with Travis and decided to further amuse himself by fucking with Terrell, when he heard, "God damn it," hiss out of Juliet's mouth. Lowering his phone, he looked up at her in time to watch her drop her pen and take her glasses off again.
"Everything okay?" He asked.
"I don't fucking know," she sighed, exasperated. "I don't--I just don't get it. I'm not missing a figure anywhere. It's all right here. It's easy, you just plug it all in, hit the button and whammo, I get the percentage that I need. But nothing's adding up right. I'm not seeing what I'm doing wrong."
Tucking his phone back into his pocket, he asked her, "You, uh, mind if I take a look at what you have going on?"
Finally, she whipped her head around and glared at him. "Of course I mind. These are my company's personal financial records, it would be highly unethical if you laid eyes on any of it, thank you very much. Not to mention that it would be a complete conflict of interest--"
"Oh, no, no, no," he corrected her. "It's after five. Now I'm just Joe Schmoe off the street, not the CEO of Reynolds Construction."
"Eric. Be real."
"I am being real. As real as the accounting degree that I hold."
"No," she shook her head. "I'm not sitting here asking you to...to take a crack at hammering some nails or something..."
"But I'd let you, if you wanted to. Because I trust you. And I know you'd drive those nails with the utmost care and precision. Just let me help you, Jules."
Rising from the couch, he removed his coat and scarf and tossed them aside alongside Juliet's blazer that was draped over the arm. Making his way behind her desk, he approached her chair and squeezed her shoulders gently, leaning his lips close to her ear. "You're so beautiful," he whispered. "Did I tell you that today?"
Finally she smirked, turning her head to catch him out of her peripherals. "In several creative ways."
"Who takes care of you, Jules? Who do you have to turn to when things like this happen? Who helps you?"
She blinked and she turned back to her computer screen. "I don't--I don't--I'm the owner of this operation, I don't have anyone to look to but myself."
"You have to have someone..."
"Who do you turn to?"
"Travis," he replied simply, straightening his spine and squeezing her shoulders once more.
"Travis?" She asked incredulously.
"Of course. He's a genius." Then he paused and leaned himself against her desk alongside her. "Just go sit down. Stretch out, get your feet off the floor. And let me take a stab at this. I know you're tired, I know you're ready to go home."
"No," she shook her head. "I can't--"
"Trust me."
It was those two words that caused Juliet to pause and stiffen her spine, finally spinning her chair around to face him. "Don't mess anything up," she warned him. "And don't tell anyone I allowed you to do this, I don't need my employees suing me or anything."
"Your secret's safe with me," he smiled. "Now if you'll excuse me..."
Minutes later, he was sitting behind her desk, his glasses resting on his nose, trying to make sense of the mess of paperwork that littered her desk. It was the most unorganized disaster he had ever seen and it was no wonder she was having trouble with her figures. Once he'd organized the collection to make it easier to see, it only took him moments to glance over it and understand the procedure she used to figure her numbers. Skimming the pages, comparing them to the computer screen, and punching various calculations in on the calculator, he came to a halt at the same place she was apparently stuck at. He could see her conundrum.
He did the math several different ways. Backward, forward, multiple times, and he still came up with the same problem. After a few frustrating minutes, he sat back in the chair, held the pages out in front of him and tried to clear his mind, hoping that the issue would jump right out at him.
And then, lo and behold, it did.
He narrowed his eyes and he cocked his head to the side, a surge of familiarity rippling through him. Trying the figures the way he suspected they were supposed to be miraculously revealed the solution to her problem. Relieved, a smile crept across his face as he picked up a nearby pencil and began to erase the mistakes. "Got it," he announced.
"Really?" She said, standing up from the couch. "What, was I missing a page? Missing a figure, a percentage, what?"
"Easier. You transposed the numbers on all three of these lines. All I did was switch them up. And, voila. Your prayers are answered. Thank me later."
Except she didn't thank him. To his surprise, her entire demeanor seemed to change as she leaned over him to snatch the papers up off of the desk, hastily stack them into one stack, filing them into a legal folder. Then she further leaned over him and saved the program she was on, shut down the computer, and bent down and snatched her heels up off the floor. Without a word, she walked to the couch and threw her blazer on over her shoulders, gathering up her purse, and stormed for the door, leaving him in the dust as he still sat behind her desk.
Bewildered and confused, he looked on in shock. "Babe. What's the matter? Where are you going?"
"Home," she spat.
"Well, my truck's down there, right on the curb. Slow your roll for a minute, let me grab my coat."
______________________________________________
For about five seconds, Eric was a sight for sore eyes. Looking up at him as he called her his favorite pet name, she wanted to melt at how sophisticated he looked in his black, knee-length overcoat with the white scarf that hung from the collar. Juliet had never paid men's fashion as much attention as she did when she laid eyes on Eric every day. Truth be told, he could wear garbage bags and look like he'd just stepped out of the pages of a magazine.
But it had been short-lived when she glanced back at her desk and was reminded of the mess she'd found herself in the middle of. This time of the year was always a struggle for her and she thought she was doing good by getting a head start on it. Would have been better, had Eric not volunteered to intervene.
For a moment, having the extra set of eyes felt like a relief. But when it took Eric merely minutes to find the solution to the problem she'd just spent hours poring over, her pride and her self-esteem took a devastating blow and she couldn't take seeing the inside of that office for another minute. Once again, compared to Eric, she felt like a complete failure.
How he had coaxed her into his truck, she had no idea, as she had every intention to walk her frustrations out on the way home. Maybe it was the cold November air that did it, or the ominous threat of the rain that loomed overhead, but the next thing she knew, she was sitting next to Eric with the heat blasting in his beastly truck, stuck in bumper-to-bumper rush hour traffic. They hadn't moved for ten minutes.
They also hadn't spoken, either. Not for Eric's lack of trying, but for Juliet's lack of participation.. At the moment, she preferred the quiet--it aided and abetted in her self-pity.
Except that Eric wasn't having it anymore. "Jules," he said gently. "You can either talk to me or I can let old Hank Williams express his own words of wisdom. Your choice."
"You know," she replied, annoyed. "You always want to 'talk.' It's always talk, talk, talk, talk about this, talk about that. Maybe sometimes I just want a little silence. Okay?"
"Yeah? Well I don't. I don't want silence. I want you to open up to me, share with me, let me be the person you lay it all out on. It's what I'm here for. Rely on me, depend on me, use me as your punching bag, I don't care. But don't shut me out."
"I'm not shutting you out--"
"Yeah? Well, you've been moody all day. You were moody at the meeting, you flipped a switch on me in your office--would you please, for once, just tell me what is wrong with you?"
She turned her head to look at him, the action so violent that her torso turned with it. "You really want to know?" She sneered. "You really want to know what is 'wrong' with me? You want to know why I'm 'moody' and 'flipping switches' and shit today? You want to know why I have a 'problem?"
"For fuck's sake, yes!"
Swallowing hard, her nostrils flared as she stared out the windshield. "Because I'm fucking dyslexic, Eric," she spat. "Okay? I have dyslexia. It takes me five years to type or read a novel or...or do anything. There. Are you happy now?"
He stared back at her, his eyes wide with guilt. "I didn't--I mean, I had no idea."
"Well, now you do. Now you know that I'm a dyslexic high school dropout who's never been behind the wheel of a car. I literally skated my way through my career. I'm nothing. I'm a shell. I'm a joke of a human being, I'm a phony, I'm a sham...I don't deserve the position I'm in, I don't deserve you--"
"Don't say that--"
"Every single time one of us opens our mouths lately, I'm reminded how stupid I actually am. And I don't mean that as a term of endearment, Eric, I mean I am literally, by book definition, stupid. I'm no better than the bullshit waste of space that I was back in Kentucky!"
"You're wrong," he said, shaking his head. "You've never been more wrong. You're brilliant--"
"Drawing pictures isn't brilliance."
"Did you see yourself today? Did you hear yourself? You are a powerhouse. You're knowledgeable, you're--"
"Today was one of the most humiliating days of my entire career." Then she crossed her arms over her chest and pouted, "I hate rush hour traffic."
Eric looked at her for a second before reaching over and taking her by the hand, lacing his fingers with hers. Gently, his eyes still on hers, he raised her hand to his mouth and he kissed it, his lips soft and sweet. "For what it's worth, I think you're perfect."
"I'm not," she shook her head, her voice calming. "Today was--was not me, it wasn't--I was nervous. Unsure of myself. Scared to death..."
"Jules--"
"And then I look at you and you're so calm, cool, and collected and you had your shit together--"
Eric snorted a laugh. "You think I had my shit together? I was shaking in my fucking shoes. And speaking of uncomfortable situations, who the hell is this Sven guy, anyway, and how come I've never heard of him?"
Juliet sighed and rolled her eyes and shook her head as he looked out the window.
"Babe?" He pressed. "Sven? Is he some big secret?"
"Sven's been on vacation. A long one, in Sweden. Visiting family. He's Swedish."
"Swedish?" Eric squawked in disbelief. "I don't know what the hell you heard in there, but that guy is as American as you and me."
Releasing an exasperated breath, she turned to look at him. "Well, he wasn't born there. But his grandparents and extended family still live there."
"Hm. And he's your project manager?"
"Yes."
"You seem to have a penchant for muscle-bound blondes, don't you?"
"Oh, why don't you go ahead and fucking say it?" She replied in disgust. "You want to know how often I fuck him? You want to know how often he bends me over my desk and plows the hell out of me?"
"Jules, I--well, no, not--"
"Yes, you do. Come on, admit it. I'm a whore and you know it!"
"Well, fuck, look at him, Jules!" He finally exploded. "If I was a chick, I'd bang him! Why wouldn't you want to?"
"Because he's gay," she replied flatly.
"G-gay? That guy?"
"As a three dollar bill. He's a queen. Flaming. And he's married to a beautiful Puerto Rican named Marco and they just adopted their first child. That's why they took the trip to Sweden. One last hurrah before they got tied down. There. There it is." She sighed and she shook her head, looking out the window once more. "Jesus, I probably just broke every damned privacy law there is."
The truck was silent as the rush hour traffic began to creep along downtown Manhattan. Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, Eric broke the silence. "You're not a whore."
Rolling her eyes, she tightened the arms that were crossed over her chest.
"Jules. You're not--you're--here, look at me." Reaching over, he gently took her chin by his thumb and forefinger and turned her head to face him. "You're not a whore. And I never believed that you were. And from now on, no more talk like that. I don't like it when you badmouth my woman. It's not cool."
"I just want to go home," she breathed.
"We're getting there," he replied gently. Then he reached over and took her hand again, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "So, uh, lunchtime sex, huh? That was a first for me."
Blushing, she finally smiled and gave in to him. "I can't lie. That was pretty hot
"We should make that a regular thing. We could call each other up and be like, 'Hey. Your bathroom or mine?"
Juliet giggled at his joke before she grew serious again, still not entirely comfortable with the way that day had gone. "Look, I'm--I'm sorry I snapped at you today. All the times I snapped at you. I didn't mean it--"
"You don't have to apologize."
"Yes, I do. Because I care about you and I shouldn't treat you that way. I just get so...so frustrated with myself and the truth is, I...well, I didn't really want you to know about my dyslexia. It's embarrassing."
"It's nothing to be ashamed of."
"I feel like I'm two different people. I feel like I have to...to be this one person on the outside--at work or at events or functions or whatever. And then there's the person who lives in my condo and it's just--it's like I go home and I strip off all my pretend layers of the person everyone thinks I am. Nobody knows that I'm uneducated and that I have a learning disability or that I have no family and grew up in hell or was previously a battered wife statistic. Nobody knows that. And speaking of statistics, with those statistics, I should probably be laying in a gutter somewhere, if I may be honest. I think my existence, alone, is a fucking miracle."
"Juliet, I--ever since the moment I laid eyes on you, I just wanted to make you happy--"
"You do make me happy--"
"But there's only so much I can do. You can smile and laugh at me all day long. But I want you to be happy--completely happy. I want you to love yourself and be comfortable with yourself and just...be happy. Whatever it takes to get there. That's what I want. Jules, your relationship with yourself is the most important one you'll ever have. And it's the most dysfunctional relationship I've ever seen."
Juliet looked at him for a moment and then she fell silent as the traffic began to pick up and he turned his attention back to the road. She glanced down at her fingers, which were now only visible under the city lights that shone through the windows, and she began to fidget with them, pressing each of her fingernails between her thumb and forefingers. She knew he was right. She knew she was her own worst enemy. She knew that, in the end, there was nobody who could do anything for her but herself. But she also knew what that would entail--and she wasn't ready to delve any further into her demons than she already had been.
"Tell you what," he said, breaking her silence. "Work's over for the day. I'm tired, you're tired. Let's just go be lazy. Picnic dinner on the floor. I'll draw you a hot bath. And then we can just cuddle up and veg out in front of the TV for the rest of the night. How does that sound?"
As wonderful and appealing as that sounded, she turned her head and she eyed him warily. "Last time we 'vegged' out, you practically ran from my apartment and then turned up looking like a train wreck the next day."
Eric chuckled and shook his head. "That won't happen tonight, I promise."
"Oh, so you're some kind of superhero, where you can schedule your illnesses or something? Get sick on command?"
"Well, I am some kind of superhero," he winked at her and then turned his attention back to the road. "You're right about that. But, no, no sickness tonight. I feel fine. Honest."
"Okay," she smirked. "How about that lazy picnic dinner?"
Side-glancing at her, he nodded matter-of-factly. "I make a pretty mean sandwich."
"Yeah? As mean as the ice cream sundae you made for me?"
"For the record, you stole that sundae, I didn't even make it for you."
"You didn't even make it at all!"
"You watched me make every single bit of that--"
"Yeah. You were a puppet. My puppet, I pulled the strings on that sundae and it was fucking delicious."
"Yeah. Well. Keep your grubby puppet master fingers off of me this time, I know what I'm doing."
"Hrmph," she huffed, crossing her arms and looking out the window. "If you insist."
"Insist? Wait," he said, his voice growing with concern. "We are still talking about sandwiches, right?"
She shrugged her shoulders. "I dunno."
"Whatever," he laughed nervously. "You can't resist me, anyway."
"I'm pretty tired," she countered.
The truck was silent as they found themselves picking up speed once again. Eric's hand creeped over and took hers, his thumb lovingly caressing the back of it. "You're so beautiful," he offered, a boyish grin on his face.
Finally, she laughed, a deep, hearty laugh straight from her belly. "Nice try, Eric. Just shut up and drive."
Juliet wasn't concerned about his feelings. He was a smart man. And they both knew that he was getting laid tonight.
Travis eyed Eric as he walked into the boardroom Thursday morning, a legal file tucked behind his wrist. This was normally the part where Travis would take a jab or two at Eric for the suit he chose to wear that day. "Look at you, GQ," he might say. "Trying to impress someone today? What's with the designer duds?"
Except that Travis looked down at his own attire and couldn't say a word.
Ironically enough, it was Eric that caught his eye and raised a curious eyebrow at him. Travis met his glance only for a second, scowling at him as he busied himself with making sure his own presentation was in the correct order.
Travis had a hard time defining what he felt that morning. He did know that he felt a little silly in the black and white business suit that he wore. His lack of tie and the loose buttons that hung off of his neck helped his comfort level but the low ponytail that he had slicked his hair back in made him nervous all over again.
Beth ate up the suit, though. Last night he had done it all. He wore a tie and he brought roses to her door. "Wow, what's the occasion?" She'd grinned. "I know you said 'nice' but I wasn't expecting this." After she'd mauled him and assaulted his lips and repeatedly told him how gorgeous he was, she rushed away to change into a dress that hugged her so right it nearly brought him to his knees.
Sitting in the back of the limo he'd rented, she happily sipped on a glass of champagne as she asked him, "What's with all this?"
He had taken her by her free hand and replied with, "I wanted to show you how important you are to me. I wanted to take you out on the town, complete with all the bells and whistles."
"You know you don't have to pull out all the stops to make me happy."
Then he'd smirked and looked her over. "Believe me, seeing you in that dress was worth it."
After some wining and dining at a swanky Italian restaurant, he was treated to a very appreciative blow job in the back of the limo as they rode back to her apartment. God, he couldn't wait for the next couple of days when she would be cleared for sex again.
This morning, however, he was all business, from head to toe, only looking up from the review of his notes as Eric greeted Kim as she walked into the room. Curious at her presence, he watched in silence as she set up a laptop at the head of the table, inches away from where he sat. Before he could question her, Walt wheeled in a large, flat screen TV on a portable TV stand. At this, Travis finally had to stifle a laugh. "What the hell is this?"
"Well, eventually we'll have a TV mounted to the wall to make this a little easier in the future," Eric replied as they watched Kim's swift hands hook up the electronics.
"Make what easier?" Travis replied.
"Kim and I have been working on this presentation for about a week now. This is the future, Travis. Better interaction leads to a better team."
"And?"
Eric's eyes darted into his brother's. Shrugging sheepishly, he nodded. "And, yeah, so Juliet's presentation is digital, too. So what? I prefer we progress with a constantly progressive company--"
"You're trying to get on a level playing field..."
"Yeah? Well, so are you, GQ," Eric spat.
Ouch. There it was.
As Kim hooked up equipment and tested the computer presentation, Travis turned his attention to his twin once again. He watched Eric as he carefully organized packets of information at each place setting, with no surprise at his meticulous organizational skills. Eric had always had a touch of what Travis lovingly called OCD. Everything always had to be clean, symmetrical, and perfectly arranged according to size and shades of color. Of course, Travis didn't feel like Eric's habits were worth a diagnosis--and they could certainly be a pain in the ass sometimes--but it was part of what made Eric who he was and so Travis endured it without complaint.
What had caught his attention, however, was the brightly-colored gloss of the menus that Eric included in everyone's packet of information. Finally, Travis had to know what was up. "Eric," he shook his head. "Seriously, what is all this? We never conduct our meetings like this. All of a sudden we're sitting here in suits with computers and TV's and we're--we're ordering in lunch? Since when?"
Eric let out a breath and looked across the table at his mirror image, placing his hands on his hips. "I thought some about what you said yesterday. About trying harder and being better. Sure, we're a construction company. But we're also a group of professionals and it's time we operated as such. And I figure what better way to start than with one of the city's most professional companies--and most professional business owners? Right? I mean, look at you. Even you dressed the part this morning."
Travis sighed, defeated. "Look, I'm not knocking it. It's just...weird."
"Change is always odd at first. But we'll get used to it, no sweat."
"Mr. Reynolds," Kim spoke up from behind her black-rimmed glasses and newly blonde ponytail.
"Please. Call me Eric," Eric smiled.
Travis furrowed his brow. "How you know she wasn't talking to me?"
Kim glanced at Travis and smirked. "I wasn't."
Travis scowled and pretended to leaf through his paperwork.
"I think I have this all hooked up. I just need to test it, if you don't mind," she said.
"Absolutely, have at it," Eric replied. "As a matter of fact, how would you like to sit in on the meeting in case anything goes wrong? I, uh, I think Miss Carson's presentation is digital, as well."
Kim but couldn't help but stifle a giggle. "You think?"
Eric's face turned red as he looked around and adjusted his suit jacket. "Would you just be our technical backup today?" He muttered.
"Of course. I'd be honored."
"Thank you."
At that, Travis shook his head and scoffed to himself.
Across the room, Eric tried to escape the room, only to find himself face-to-face with Juliet and her small team.
_____________________________________
Juliet wore red. Eric loved it when she wore red. Red was the color of power. And dominance. And on Juliet, red was nothing more than pure, unadulterated, hot sex.
He couldn't help his eyes as they trailed down her body, detailing the way the tight, red dress fell dangerously high above her knees, covered by a modest black, three-quarter sleeved blazer that just strategically hung to cover her rear end. She wore high, black stiletto pumps and damn her if she didn't let her hair flow freely down her back. In essence, she looked completely professional, even down to the glasses she wore on her face to downplay what she had to know would happen in Eric's pants upon sight of her. When her blazer shifted as she switched her briefcase from one hand to the other, he caught a glimpse of cleavage and it was all over.
She was the devil.
"Mr. Reynolds," she smiled sweetly, breaking his heart and bringing him back down to Earth with a crash. "Good morning."
"Call me Eric, you don't have to pretend that much," he muttered. "We can do professional, but don't act like you don't know me."
"I've never done this before," she whispered. "Please be patient."
"You look obscenely ravishing," he whispered.
"My staff is behind me," she whispered back.
Embarrassed for the second time that morning, he cleared his throat so that Juliet could enter the board room. He couldn't help his eyes as they glanced downward as she passed, her perfectly-sculpted, long legs making him weak at his knees. Then he pulled it together and smiled at Beth as she walked in behind her, but was completely caught off guard at the large hulk that he would have come face-to-face with, had he not had to look up the extra inches to meet his eyes.
Eric was surprised, and a little put off, buy the large, Greek Adonis that stood before him, hand extended, with a smile that nearly blinded Eric with dental perfection. His eyes were ocean blue, his golden blonde hair in a slicked back, high ponytail that suggested that his hair normally fell to his shoulders, and his jawline was so square and so sharp that he probably could have opened a metal can with his face without batting an eyelash.
Hesitantly, Eric accepted the hand that peeked out from behind a gray Armani sleeve, and shook it, equally startled by the firm handshake. "Eric Reynolds," he introduced himself, standing taller and straightening his spine. "Nice to meet you."
"Sven Mitchum," the Adonis replied, still grinning. "Pleasure."
As Eric's hair began to stand on end, he cleared his throat and motioned with his arm. "Please, have a seat. We'll be getting started soon."
Eric watched as Sven took his seat, flaring his nostrils, not at the fact that he sat between Beth and Juliet, but at how close he sat to Juliet and how their heads automatically seemed to glue themselves together over paperwork they'd brought along. Eric didn't like this. He didn't know Sven, he'd never heard of Sven, and he didn't like Sven. Why had Juliet never mentioned this guy? Was this what Eric had to look forward to? Did Juliet only handpick and hire models and gorgeous people? The thought unnerved him.
Eric wasn't sure why he expected more people on her end to show up. Then again, his kickoff meetings usually only really consisted of project managers and sales representatives. This was a special case. This was someone who already had a plan, already knew exactly what she wanted and how she wanted it. This was also someone who had his heart. This wouldn't be any ordinary meeting, tossing around plans just to see what works and what have you. This was a meeting about Eric doing anything and absolutely everything Juliet wanted in order to make her happy. He just wanted to make her dreams come true. Nothing more, nothing less.
He sneered as he wondered if Sven knew anything about making Juliet's dreams come true.
Jesus, he had to get a grip here, the guy only worked for her. What the hell was he worrying about?
Half an hour later, Juliet had set her presentation up with Kim, pitchers of water had made their ways around the table, and everyone was settled comfortably in their seats. Eric had just prepared to get started when Hilary walked in, a pad and paper in hand. "Mr. Reynolds," she said quietly.
"Call me Eric," he corrected. He was beginning to feel like a broken record. How many times did he have to correct everyone?
"Um, I'm sorry," she blushed. "I came to get the lunch order."
He stared back at her blankly.
"So I can go ahead and call it in so it can get here in time?"
"Oh!" He replied, feeling the proverbial light bulb switch itself on in his head. "Yes! Of course. Thank you."
As Hilary went around the table collecting orders, quiet murmuring sounded around everyone. Juliet remained cozy with Sven, causing a scowl to grace Eric's face. As Hilary came around, taking Beth and Sven's orders, Juliet seemed lost in her own world. As soon as Sven was finished speaking to Hilary, Juliet wasted no time jumping right back in. "As I was saying," she murmured. "You know I trust you, Sven. But I'd like to at least try it this way just to see what happens."
Eric's stomach churned.
"That's an awfully big risk," Sven's deep voice replied. "Even the best construction companies would struggle with pulling that off."
"They are the best," she shot at him, jerking her head back. "That's why we're here."
Eric smiled at his small, silent victory before he noticed that poor Hilary stood there looking lost as she waited on Juliet. Discreetly, Eric pulled her over, ordered for both himself and Juliet, and sent Hilary on her way.
Upon hearing the board room door click closed, Juliet jumped up, her head whipping around. "Is she gone? I didn't put my order in."
"You can share mine," Sven offered.
"I took care of it," Eric interjected, his eyes glancing into Sven's.
Turning her torso around in her chair, she faced Eric. "What do you mean, you took care of it?" She hissed.
"I know what you eat," he winked. "It's okay."
"No. No, it's--I already knew what I wanted, she just came through here so fast--"
"I'm having the grilled chicken salad, extra cheese, with vinegarette and a cup of lobster bisque on the side. I ordered you the same."
"Oh, please, you wouldn't come within a five-mile radius of a salad," she sneered at him, unaware of her sudden rise in volume.
"Oh?" He arched an amused eyebrow. "And how do you know what I eat, Miss Carson?"
He smirked at her as her face turned red and he knew he'd just beat her at her own game. Flustered, her eyes darted around a silent table, and she lifted her chin and replied quietly, "I think we're ready to start this meeting."
And then, suddenly, Eric grew nervous.
Clearing his throat, he stood up and took his place at the end of the large, oval-shaped table. As soon as his father had cleaned out his office and headed to Rhode Island, Eric had wasted absolutely no time remodeling the old, stuffy board room. He got rid of the heavy, mahogany, intimidating, rectangular table and replaced it with a large, oval shape made from lighter wood. Eric didn't believe in sitting at the head of the table and conducting his meetings by way of intimidation. He sat at his father's right for several years watching him do just that and Eric vowed that that was not the kind of boss he wanted to be. Eric believed that the best workers came from respectful workers and respect was earned by giving your employees the same respect you would want them to give to you. Eric took the blows from his father, even still, when he accused him of being soft-hearted or too easy on his employees, but the truth was, Eric's turnover rate was much lower than his father's was. A sound, profitable, and successful company kept its employees, not chased them away.
However, this was the first time he'd ever conducted a meeting quite this formal, and while he knew for a fact that his own staff was silently calling bullshit on him--and Travis pretty much having his number on trying to impress Juliet--the three representatives from Carson Innovations looked at him expectantly, as if this sort of thing was second nature to them. Because it was. Because Juliet conducted herself with the utmost professionalism a minimum of forty hours per week. He stood there and he looked at her and he was immediately inspired.
Clearing his throat one more time, he moved his suit jacket out of the way so that he could comfortably shove his hands inside his pockets. "Good morning," he began. "I'd like to thank you all for being here on such short notice for this kickoff meeting on, uh, the relocation of Carson Innovations. Most of you here know me, I'm Eric Reynolds, President and CEO of Reynolds Construction and Project Manager of this particular project." Upon hearing his own words, realizing that the only person who sat there that didn't know him was Sven, his hands left his pockets and he became more comfortable in his speech. After all, just as Juliet had so deliciously reminded him, this was his company. It was his staff and his power. Everyone looked up to him. Why shouldn't he be someone they could trust and look up to? Motioning to each person as he spoke, he introduced his staff. "To my left, here, is Walter Reynolds, Vice President of Operations and Head of Sales. Next to him is Travis Reynolds, Senior Site Manager. Next to Travis is Paul Heald, who will serve as General Foreman on this project. Paul was handpicked by both Travis and myself, as he is the very best foreman in the industry as far as we're concerned. And then joining us today is Kim Middlebrook, the head of our IT department, taking time out of her day especially to help us make sure that we don't break the equipment in here." Light laughter surrounded the table as Eric turned his attention to the woman who made his heart pound uncontrollably every time he laid eyes on her. "And now I'll let Miss Carson have the floor so that she may tell you a little bit about herself and her company."
To Eric's surprise, her brown eyes locked on his and they read absolute terror. He would have never guessed, in a million years, that something like this would ever make her nervous, but her expression, discreet as it was, deafeningly screamed at him and he knew he was the only one who could hear it. He longed to hold her hand and kiss her cheek and tell her that everything was okay. But he couldn't. So he hoped that the gentle nod he directed at her was enough to get the message across.
________________________________________________
Juliet wore red on purpose.
She'd left Eric's early that morning so that she could go home and get ready for the day. She'd woken up with her nerves shot and she didn't think she could handle getting ready for this meeting with him. She didn't want him to know how terrified she was, because she couldn't understand it herself. This was her building, her project, her company's relocation--she knew all the ins and outs because it was hers. She almost didn't even need to prepare for it.
Except that it was Eric. And while she swooned upon sight of him and her heart soared at the touch of his hand, she still wasn't ready to become this completely dependent on him--professionally or otherwise.
And so, she wore red. She wore red and showed off her legs because she knew that was Eric's weakness. And as long as she had Eric in the palm of her hand, her control level was higher along with her comfort level. That was the only way she knew she would get through this meeting.
Except all of that flew right out the window when she laid eyes on him in his board room. She'd never seen a more perfectly-tailored suit on a man, a deep navy blue with white pinstripes so light that they were barely there. His blue eyes popped and sparkled against the dark hue of his wardrobe. His collared shirt underneath was as pale a blue as you could find, set off with a deep, burgundy necktie that Juliet instantly fantasized about tying around her own neck and surprising him in nothing but that and a pair of stilettos.
God, he was breathtaking in blue. And she was pretty sure he knew it, too.
Watching him address the table and open the meeting had been a turn-on like no other. The way he spoke with authority, the way he carried himself in confidence and the respect that was paid to him for it was enough to form stars in her eyes and to make her ache under her skirt.
She had been mesmerized by him, completely lost in her own feelings and fantasies, when he'd turned the floor over to her to introduce herself and her company. Caught off guard, it took her a moment for her to get her bearings before she responded.
Clearing her throat with a smile, she stood up carefully and blushed as she smoothed out her dress. "Um, thank you, Mr. Reynolds--ah, Eric." She replied, testing her professional waters. After all, Eric had a point--everybody already knew they were on a first-name basis, anyway. Right?
Eric beamed, keeping it as casual as he could as he reclaimed his chair beside her. Now being the center of attention in the room, Juliet began to ease into her routine. "Good morning. My name is Juliet Carson and I am the co-founder, co-owner, CEO, and lead designer for Carson Innovations. The lovely lady with me today is Beth Knight, co-founder, co-owner, and lead architect. And this," she motioned next to her, "is Sven Mitchum, our project manager."
"Project manager?" Eric asked with confusion in his voice.
"Yes," she replied, meeting the confused look on his face that matched his tone. "Project manager. He knows everything there is to know about this project, probably more than myself. He'll be absolutely qualified to handle any and everything that needs to be handled when I'm not around to do it myself."
"Not around?" Eric pressed. "You made it pretty clear that you were practically going to smother me until this project was finished..."
Eric's tone and his words were starting to make Juliet uncomfortable. She was uncomfortable because he was too comfortable. It was no secret that the two of them knew each other on a first-name basis, but it was not necessary for everyone to know exactly how well they knew each other. And Eric was riding the line.
"Well, I'm only one person," she smiled nervously, trying to keep it together. "I have other projects I'm working on, as well, I can only be in one place at a time."
"So do I," he muttered flatly as his narrowed eyes stared her down.
She felt her hands tremble with nerves, so she shoved them in her blazer pockets and shook her hair off of her shoulder. Clearing her throat, she continued. "I assume that you all have a copy of the contract in front of you, so if you flip through it, you'll notice that I have designated Eric as the sole, primary project manager for this relocation. I'm sure that you can respect the fact that when it comes to your home and your livelihood, it's not preferable for you to take any chances. I honestly wasn't sure how this company operated when I proposed the contract, I only knew that I was familiar with the quality of Reynolds' work and that was good enough for me. So I drew up a contract, presented it to Eric, and practically groveled for his help." She paused as light laughter murmured throughout the room. "With that being said, I trust that Eric will handle this project with care and to the very best of his abilities, with this very best people, and that is why you all are sitting in this board room this morning. So thank you."
"Thank you," Eric replied solemnly and sincerely.
Juliet glanced his way and smiled briefly, unable to shake her nerves. He made her nervous. She expected his presence, alone, to be her comfort and her salvation, but it was completely the opposite. She was terrified. She was terrified to fumble her words, forget her thoughts, drop pens or paper or even trip over her own heels. Had it finally happened? Had she met her match with Eric's dominance, intimidation, and professionalism?
Intimidation? Was she intimidated by him?
"So," she smiled once more, letting out a breath. "I'll turn the floor back over to Eric and he will let you know what's in store for our little project."
As she sat, Eric stood, a boyish grin creeping across his face that was accompanied by a twinkle in his eye as he addressed the table. "Okay," he said, clapping his hands together. "The name of the game is to tear this sucker down and put it back up. Right this second, we don't have a deed, so we don't have a schedule, but that will be another meeting once Carson Innovations closes on the property. Meanwhile, if you'll flip through your binders, there, you'll find pictures of the property and all the specs and stats to go along with it." Pausing, he directed his attention to the girl in the glasses. "Kim, if you will."
Quickly, she rushed to the end of the table, brushed her fingers swiftly along the keyboard of the laptop that sat there, and then crossed the room and hit half the lights. Pulling up a chair, she concentrated harder on the laptop as the images showed up on a TV screen at the front of the room. As Kim typed and Eric gestured all over the screen, displaying his knowledge and prowess of the demolition process, Juliet found herself lost in him all over again. She couldn't help herself. She'd spent her entire life dreaming of a man just like him, of a man who had it together and was handsome and sweet and intelligent and caring and generous--he was everything she wanted and everything she needed.
And she was a hot mess. She would never be good enough for him.
The realization hit her like a ton of bricks and, suddenly, it became difficult to concentrate. She turned her attention to her water glass in an effort to stave off any emotions that she knew would rise in her if she thought any more about it and she feared that she might have a panic attack right there in the middle of the meeting.
"Juliet," Sven said to her softly. "Juliet?"
"Hm?" She replied, looking over at him.
"You're up."
"I'm what?"
"You're up. They've demoed the building and gotten rid of the debris. Now they're ready to rebuild it. That's where you come in."
Blinking at Sven rapidly, she looked around and noticed the lights were on and the presentation was no longer on the screen. When had that happened? When did Eric finish talking?
Juliet looked over Sven and into Beth's eyes, hoping that she could read her silent plea for help. She was in no hurry to elaborate, she just needed Beth to hold her up and keep her from falling. Thankfully, because the pair were so in tune with each other, Beth darted from her seat and retrieved the two long, cardboard tubes that leaned against the wall behind them. Juliet spoke as she took out the poster-sized sheets and spread them across the table, holding them down with small paper weights she'd brought along. "These that I have here are rough drafts of the smaller scale prints that Beth is handing to you now. I just wanted something on a bit of a larger scale so that we could all be on the same page and you could all have your own mobile copies." Suddenly, out of nowhere, it felt like it was a thousand degrees in there. Was it just her? She didn't know, but the change was noticeable enough for her to look up and glance around at Travis running his hand along the back of his neck and Walter loosening up his tie. "It's hot as the blazes in here," Juliet said, standing up and fanning herself. "Can we maybe open the door or something? Is it just me?"
"I'm so sorry," Kim said sheepishly as she jumped up from her chair. "Sometimes the heat can be a little overpowering in this room. I was hoping it wouldn't suffocate us today, but I guess we couldn't get that lucky."
"I'd crack a window, but it would freeze us out. Can't win for losing," Eric's voice came with a light chuckle from the chair beside her. Looking around and glancing down at him, she nearly fainted on the spot. He had removed his suit jacket as a result of the heat, loosened his tie ever so slightly, and rolled his cuffs up his forearms. The pale blue button-down fit him so perfectly that she could see his shape through the chest and the sleeves and, in her mind, she was swinging a leg over his lap and tearing his shirt open right there in front of God and everybody.
After a minute or two, they found relief through the dropping of a couple of degrees and Juliet was more than ready to get back to her blueprints. Anything to keep her eyes off of Eric, anything at all. Armed with a pencil in her hand, she leaned over the table to point out the key areas on the blueprints, taking no time at all to get completely lost in her work and her concentration. Before long, she was answering questions from Travis and Paul and the three of them, along with Beth, began to dominate the topic. Finally, Juliet was comfortable. She was calm and she was cool and she had finally found her niche in this meeting. Everything was going to be okay.
Until she felt the hand creeping around her left knee.
Her breath caught in her throat and she hoped no one noticed it. She felt Eric's hand stop on the inside of her knee as his thumb gently caressed her skin. Normally, this type of behavior would turn her on, but in this moment, she was appalled by his audacity. Glancing down at him, his left elbow rested on the table as he leaned over it to get a view of her blueprint, but it was obviously a cover for his ulterior motive. She could commend him for being subtle and unnoticeable, but she was too taken aback by his bold behavior. Reacting instinctively, she straightened her spine and squeezed her knees together right onto Eric's knuckles, looking down at him deliberately. "Is there a problem, Mr. Reynolds?" She spat.
He winced in pain as he fought to cover it up and Juliet lifted her chin in defiance because it served him right to try something so stupid in the presence of both of their staffs. As he held his hands together under the table, nursing his wounds and his hurt pride, she watched his eyes dart over the table, and then his expression changed. "Actually, yeah," he said. "There is a problem." Bringing his hands back up, he took his blueprint copy in his hand, skimmed it, and then looked up at her larger version. "Your measurements are wrong."
Immediately, Juliet was on the defensive. "My measurements are not wrong. They are spot on, I think I know my own project--"
"That may be so," Eric replied, rising from his chair and leaning over the table alongside her. Then he pointed at several places on her poster. "But these measurements here, here, here, and here? Those are impossible. To scale, that would make this building take up, like, two blocks." Then he gave her his smaller copy. "Here. Look at it."
"Juliet," Beth said gently, taking a copy in her hand, as well. "He's right. I mean, they're almost right, it's an easy fix. It looks like the numbers are just transposed, that's all."
"Well, that's--that's just--" Juliet was flustered and her eyes blinked wildly. She was never wrong in a meeting. She was always prepared, her paperwork was always flawless, and she wouldn't tolerate any less from herself or her company. But today? What the hell was wrong with her today?
She felt the blood rise in her cheeks as Eric's left hand gently took the pencil from her own and he began to erase and rewrite her marks. She was too mortified to concentrate on how sexy Eric looked with his hand nearly upside down as he wrote. Being left-handed seemed to suit him. But she would have to revisit that later. Right now, she had to save her own face.
Attempting a strong smile, she flipped her hair off of her shoulder and glanced around the table. "Well, I suppose that's what happens when you get in a rush. Like I said, these are merely a rough draft for emphasis, but what you all are holding are the real figures, no transpositions."
Turning his head toward her, Eric winked at her as he sat back down. The gesture should have melted her heart, but instead, she wanted to have a complete meltdown. Maybe she was too hard on herself, she didn't know, but this meeting just seemed to be going from bad to worse.
When it was time to finally recess for lunch, Juliet couldn't make it to the restroom fast enough. Closing herself into the intimate, single room with the low light and zen-esque décor, she braced herself against the back of the door and closed her eyes, sucking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly. Was this what it was going to be like to work with Eric? Was she going to be nervous and too afraid to move around him for fear that she would screw everything up? Because she sure was doing a damn fine job of that today.
Once she'd collected herself and calmed herself down for the moment, she opened the door and was startled to find Eric standing there. God, please, no. Please don't try to attempt sex in the bathroom. Not right now.
To her surprise, he shoved his hands in his pockets. "Are you okay?"
Her eyes darted around behind him and then she glared at him. "Could you say that a little louder?"
"What?"
"I mean, you've had no problem displaying my shortcomings for the world to see all morning, why should lunch be any different, right?"
"Jules, what are you talking about?"
And then she froze. Did she really want to tell him? Did she want to admit that she'd been humiliated? Nervous and afraid? She could tell him anything and she knew it. But where did one draw the line with that?
"Jules," he pressed gently. "Kiss me."
Finally, she snapped back to the present. "What?"
"Everything's okay. Just kiss me. Maybe it'll calm you down a little bit. Relieve some tension..."
"Who said I needed to be calm--?"
"Your eyes. The tone of your voice, your shaking hands, everything. Kiss me."
"Stop reading me."
"Would you rather I not be able to read you? Would you rather not have someone who knows you and understands you?"
"Eric..."
But it was too late. He was coming toward her and she was backing back through the bathroom door, knowing she was unable to speak because the sound would carry through the echoes of their voices.
Gently, he closed and locked the door behind them and then he turned and looked at her. Taking her face softly in his hands, he swept his thumbs along her cheekbones before his lips sweetly met hers. With his kiss, she melted, and when he opened his mouth to deepen it, she was ready to devour him.
Wrapping her arms around his neck, she anxiously backed him into the wall, their breathing growing heavier, their kisses growing hungrier and more desperate. He countered her action within seconds by pushing her off of him, backing her across the small room and boosting her up onto the corner of the marble counter top of the sink. He yanked her dress hurriedly up over her thighs as she unbuckled his belt with lightning speed, and within just a few more seconds, he was inside her with her legs wrapped around his waist and her hands gripping the edges of the counter behind her.
She stared up into his intense blue eyes, knowing that neither of them could utter a single sound and their breathing was already deafening her ears. With an arm gripping her tightly around her waist and the other hand with a death grip on her thigh, it was over as quickly as it started and, despite any fancy noises or positions, it was probably the hottest sex they had had to date. Her orgasm was explosive and intense and she threw her head back as she bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut so as not to make a sound because she knew that if she did, it would have likely been a blood-curdling scream. That was what he did to her, all the time. It was what kept her wanting more and more of him, her appetite for him as insatiable as anything she'd ever felt.
By the time they'd collected themselves and returned as casually as possible to the board room, lunch was fully underway. She had assumed that maybe Eric was right and kissing him would have calmed her nerves--and if the kissing him wouldn't then the quickie sex sure would have. Except that it didn't. It seemingly made it worse. Upon sitting down at the table, her nerves were back in full swing. She thought that, for, sure, she had "Eric and I just fucked" flashing in bright, neon lights across her forehead. Her body was relaxed, relieved, and satisfied. Her brain, unfortunately, was not. Couldn't this meeting be over already?
___________________________
Eric hadn't planned on that quickie at all. It wasn't even in the realm of possibilities. He thought he'd been doing good just trying to steal a kiss in a dark corner. He never once thought he'd find himself up her skirt in the bathroom with their colleagues just a few doors down. In those precious few minutes, if she could have gotten pregnant, he would have given her twins. At least. Guaranteed.
Satisfied and happy, he tried to keep his smiles to a minimum as he walked back into the board room. What they had just done was raunchy and unprofessional, hot as it was, and it was probably in their best interest that nobody even suspect that they'd been alone together at all. Juliet was right. It was best to keep it professional.
The second half of the meeting contained the meat and potatoes of the project. Travis presented the details of the company's intentions in constructing the building, Paul went over the equipment and the manpower that would be required, and Sven presented the three-dimensional multimedia presentation of the expected completed product. Sven's blue eyes twinkled as he spoke, his posture oozed confidence, and his tone suggested significant over-achievement. Glancing around the room, Eric's stomach churned as Juliet smiled up at Sven, and he was equally as taken aback when even Kim seemed to be mesmerized by him. Eric didn't understand why he was so bent out of shape over this guy. He wasn't the one who was pawing all over Juliet in the bathroom, was he?
As a whole, however, Eric felt good about the meeting. The two groups seemed to mesh, everyone seemed to get along, and there was a general comfort in the overall atmosphere. All in all, the kickoff meeting had been a success.
But, then, there was Juliet. Once the meeting was over, she couldn't seem to get out of there fast enough and he was hardly able to say two words to her before she rushed onto the elevator. She'd said she was running behind on some work back at the office that had to be completed before the day was out, but Eric wasn't sure if he was buying it or not. He was aware of her staffing situation so he could understand the legitimacy of her excuse. But in a way, it felt like that was all it was--an excuse. Was he thinking too much into it or was there a deeper issue that he needed to address?
Eric wasn't sure. But he was welcoming of the distraction that came from Travis's and Walt's smiling faces after the Carson Innovations camp had left the building. Shamelessly, for the rest of the afternoon, the three men spoke in gleeful detail of the possibilities in Reynolds Construction's future.
*************
The evening air was cold and crisp as the overcast clouds loomed over Manhattan. They threatened rain, though Eric wished for snow, as he sat high in his truck, waiting for the car to finish moving itself from the curb that he was about to park himself on. Leaning over and looking up out his window, he searched the tall office building for the light in Juliet's office, knowing it was a futile effort. There was no way of knowing exactly which window was hers, so he knew he had to take his chances that she may still be up there--especially since she hadn't returned his text from a short while ago.
Finally, after what felt like years, the person got their car out of the way and Eric advanced. Then he nearly got into it with a person who thought they were going to cut him off and claim the space for themselves, causing Eric to roll down his window, holler out a few choice four-letter words, and follow up with the grand finale hand gesture. Naturally, he won out in the end, but he prepared himself in case the opposing driver got brave and decided to step out of the car.
The physical altercation never happened, however, as the driver drove away, and Eric made his way up to Carson Innovations' floor, unscathed.
Upon stepping off the elevator and into the hallway, he stopped at the door to Carson Innovations and was surprised to find it unlocked. It was after five o'clock and, though he didn't know the ins and outs of how she ran her operation, he supposed he expected the firm to be locked down and closed up at five on the nose. When it wasn't, he decided this was his lucky day.
Unlucky for the girl at the front desk, whom he'd startled with his presence, walking into a lobby where the lights were, indeed, turned off, signifying that they were closed. Blinking at him, she paused to catch her breath for a moment before she breathed, "Um, can I help you?"
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," he smiled. "I'm Eric Reynolds. I was just checking to see if Miss Carson was still in."
"Yeah," she smiled. "She's in her office right across the hall, there. I can get her on the phone--"
"No need," he smiled again. "Thank you."
Making his way across the tiled floor, he found her door closed as he stood outside it. Knocking gently with his knuckle, he waited a second before he opened the door and let himself inside. "Babe?" He said quietly, with a smile. "I thought I might surprise you and...um..."
He stood there for a moment before he closed the door behind him, eying Juliet curiously as she sat behind her desk. Papers were strewn all over the surface, including all over her laptop which lay open on one side of the desk while she pecked furiously on the keyboard of the desktop computer on the other side. Her glasses were on her face, her black blazer thrown listlessly onto the white leather sofa by her desk, and her hair pulled back in a careless mess out of her face and off her shoulders. She looked like she'd been to hell and was trying to claw her way back from it.
Upon sight of him, she took off her glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose, collapsing her elbow onto the desk in exasperation. "What are you doing here?"
"Well," he began warily. "Um, normally your face lights up when I enter a room..."
"I'm sorry," she sighed, sitting back in her chair. "I'm sorry, I just--I'm just trying to get this done so I can get out of here. I've been at it for...for much too long and I just need to...to get it done."
"It's okay," he replied. "I understand. I can wait."
"It's probably better that you don't. Unless you don't mind sleeping on leather couches."
"Come on," he smiled, walking up to her desk. "It can't be that bad. Mind if I ask what you're working on?"
"Payroll."
"Payroll?" He asked, confused. "Don't you have someone in Personnel--?"
"Not payroll in the traditional sense, payroll, like--I mean, it's time for bonuses to come up, so I'm crunching numbers, prepping the records to send to Payroll so they can pay them when it's time...I go through this every year. And the more money the company makes, the harder it gets."
"But it's the same process," he offered.
"It is. And it's time-consuming. And this time I've...well, I've hit a rough patch. I don't know if I've fucked up or if my brain has given out on me or what. I hate numbers. And numbers hate me."
"And, yet, the company you own is primarily based around numbers," Eric smirked.
"Don't remind me." Then she sighed and put her glasses back on, turning her attention back to the computer as she turned a sheet over in front of her. "I'm gonna be here awhile."
"Well, then, it's my lucky day," he grinned. "Because so am I."
Finally, he garnered a grin out of her as she shook her head at the computer screen. "Suit yourself. Don't say I didn't warn you."
Happily, Eric made himself comfortable on the couch, wriggling himself down into it. Unable to resist, he shamelessly stared at Juliet, his eyes automatically trailing downward, and then frowning at the large, bulky nature of her desk. He couldn't see her legs, but he spied what looked like the spike end of a stiletto peeking out from underneath of it, indicating that she sat there without her shoes on. Amused, he shook his head and pulled his phone out of his pocket, choosing to occupy his time by texting his brother with useless, mindless conversation. "Hey, so are you a leg man or a boob man?"
"You conducting a survey?" Travis texted back.
"Maybe you're an ass man."
"What?"
"Foot fetish?"
"What the fuck? Is this Eric ? Did somebody jack your phone?"
"I think I've decided I'm a leg man. Maybe it depends on the woman?"
"I don't know. I mean, Beth's got a pretty hot rack. On her, I guess I'm a boob man."
"What about that night you almost made it with Juliet?"
"Is this gonna get me in trouble?"
"Humor me."
"Nah. I just wanted to nail Juliet for curiosity's sake. She's got a hot rack, too, but it wasn't high on my priority list."
"So then it does depend on the woman."
"I guess. Why are you asking me this?"
"Because I'm bored."
"You're fucking kidding."
"What are you doing right now?"
"Exchanging dirty texts with Beth. And praying like hell that I don't accidentally text you instead."
"Seriously?"
"Seriously."
"That's kinda fucked up, man. You should have just ignored me."
"Yeah...that would have been smart."
"I'm done with this convo dude."
"Thank God."
Shaking his head, Eric closed the text with Travis and decided to further amuse himself by fucking with Terrell, when he heard, "God damn it," hiss out of Juliet's mouth. Lowering his phone, he looked up at her in time to watch her drop her pen and take her glasses off again.
"Everything okay?" He asked.
"I don't fucking know," she sighed, exasperated. "I don't--I just don't get it. I'm not missing a figure anywhere. It's all right here. It's easy, you just plug it all in, hit the button and whammo, I get the percentage that I need. But nothing's adding up right. I'm not seeing what I'm doing wrong."
Tucking his phone back into his pocket, he asked her, "You, uh, mind if I take a look at what you have going on?"
Finally, she whipped her head around and glared at him. "Of course I mind. These are my company's personal financial records, it would be highly unethical if you laid eyes on any of it, thank you very much. Not to mention that it would be a complete conflict of interest--"
"Oh, no, no, no," he corrected her. "It's after five. Now I'm just Joe Schmoe off the street, not the CEO of Reynolds Construction."
"Eric. Be real."
"I am being real. As real as the accounting degree that I hold."
"No," she shook her head. "I'm not sitting here asking you to...to take a crack at hammering some nails or something..."
"But I'd let you, if you wanted to. Because I trust you. And I know you'd drive those nails with the utmost care and precision. Just let me help you, Jules."
Rising from the couch, he removed his coat and scarf and tossed them aside alongside Juliet's blazer that was draped over the arm. Making his way behind her desk, he approached her chair and squeezed her shoulders gently, leaning his lips close to her ear. "You're so beautiful," he whispered. "Did I tell you that today?"
Finally she smirked, turning her head to catch him out of her peripherals. "In several creative ways."
"Who takes care of you, Jules? Who do you have to turn to when things like this happen? Who helps you?"
She blinked and she turned back to her computer screen. "I don't--I don't--I'm the owner of this operation, I don't have anyone to look to but myself."
"You have to have someone..."
"Who do you turn to?"
"Travis," he replied simply, straightening his spine and squeezing her shoulders once more.
"Travis?" She asked incredulously.
"Of course. He's a genius." Then he paused and leaned himself against her desk alongside her. "Just go sit down. Stretch out, get your feet off the floor. And let me take a stab at this. I know you're tired, I know you're ready to go home."
"No," she shook her head. "I can't--"
"Trust me."
It was those two words that caused Juliet to pause and stiffen her spine, finally spinning her chair around to face him. "Don't mess anything up," she warned him. "And don't tell anyone I allowed you to do this, I don't need my employees suing me or anything."
"Your secret's safe with me," he smiled. "Now if you'll excuse me..."
Minutes later, he was sitting behind her desk, his glasses resting on his nose, trying to make sense of the mess of paperwork that littered her desk. It was the most unorganized disaster he had ever seen and it was no wonder she was having trouble with her figures. Once he'd organized the collection to make it easier to see, it only took him moments to glance over it and understand the procedure she used to figure her numbers. Skimming the pages, comparing them to the computer screen, and punching various calculations in on the calculator, he came to a halt at the same place she was apparently stuck at. He could see her conundrum.
He did the math several different ways. Backward, forward, multiple times, and he still came up with the same problem. After a few frustrating minutes, he sat back in the chair, held the pages out in front of him and tried to clear his mind, hoping that the issue would jump right out at him.
And then, lo and behold, it did.
He narrowed his eyes and he cocked his head to the side, a surge of familiarity rippling through him. Trying the figures the way he suspected they were supposed to be miraculously revealed the solution to her problem. Relieved, a smile crept across his face as he picked up a nearby pencil and began to erase the mistakes. "Got it," he announced.
"Really?" She said, standing up from the couch. "What, was I missing a page? Missing a figure, a percentage, what?"
"Easier. You transposed the numbers on all three of these lines. All I did was switch them up. And, voila. Your prayers are answered. Thank me later."
Except she didn't thank him. To his surprise, her entire demeanor seemed to change as she leaned over him to snatch the papers up off of the desk, hastily stack them into one stack, filing them into a legal folder. Then she further leaned over him and saved the program she was on, shut down the computer, and bent down and snatched her heels up off the floor. Without a word, she walked to the couch and threw her blazer on over her shoulders, gathering up her purse, and stormed for the door, leaving him in the dust as he still sat behind her desk.
Bewildered and confused, he looked on in shock. "Babe. What's the matter? Where are you going?"
"Home," she spat.
"Well, my truck's down there, right on the curb. Slow your roll for a minute, let me grab my coat."
______________________________________________
For about five seconds, Eric was a sight for sore eyes. Looking up at him as he called her his favorite pet name, she wanted to melt at how sophisticated he looked in his black, knee-length overcoat with the white scarf that hung from the collar. Juliet had never paid men's fashion as much attention as she did when she laid eyes on Eric every day. Truth be told, he could wear garbage bags and look like he'd just stepped out of the pages of a magazine.
But it had been short-lived when she glanced back at her desk and was reminded of the mess she'd found herself in the middle of. This time of the year was always a struggle for her and she thought she was doing good by getting a head start on it. Would have been better, had Eric not volunteered to intervene.
For a moment, having the extra set of eyes felt like a relief. But when it took Eric merely minutes to find the solution to the problem she'd just spent hours poring over, her pride and her self-esteem took a devastating blow and she couldn't take seeing the inside of that office for another minute. Once again, compared to Eric, she felt like a complete failure.
How he had coaxed her into his truck, she had no idea, as she had every intention to walk her frustrations out on the way home. Maybe it was the cold November air that did it, or the ominous threat of the rain that loomed overhead, but the next thing she knew, she was sitting next to Eric with the heat blasting in his beastly truck, stuck in bumper-to-bumper rush hour traffic. They hadn't moved for ten minutes.
They also hadn't spoken, either. Not for Eric's lack of trying, but for Juliet's lack of participation.. At the moment, she preferred the quiet--it aided and abetted in her self-pity.
Except that Eric wasn't having it anymore. "Jules," he said gently. "You can either talk to me or I can let old Hank Williams express his own words of wisdom. Your choice."
"You know," she replied, annoyed. "You always want to 'talk.' It's always talk, talk, talk, talk about this, talk about that. Maybe sometimes I just want a little silence. Okay?"
"Yeah? Well I don't. I don't want silence. I want you to open up to me, share with me, let me be the person you lay it all out on. It's what I'm here for. Rely on me, depend on me, use me as your punching bag, I don't care. But don't shut me out."
"I'm not shutting you out--"
"Yeah? Well, you've been moody all day. You were moody at the meeting, you flipped a switch on me in your office--would you please, for once, just tell me what is wrong with you?"
She turned her head to look at him, the action so violent that her torso turned with it. "You really want to know?" She sneered. "You really want to know what is 'wrong' with me? You want to know why I'm 'moody' and 'flipping switches' and shit today? You want to know why I have a 'problem?"
"For fuck's sake, yes!"
Swallowing hard, her nostrils flared as she stared out the windshield. "Because I'm fucking dyslexic, Eric," she spat. "Okay? I have dyslexia. It takes me five years to type or read a novel or...or do anything. There. Are you happy now?"
He stared back at her, his eyes wide with guilt. "I didn't--I mean, I had no idea."
"Well, now you do. Now you know that I'm a dyslexic high school dropout who's never been behind the wheel of a car. I literally skated my way through my career. I'm nothing. I'm a shell. I'm a joke of a human being, I'm a phony, I'm a sham...I don't deserve the position I'm in, I don't deserve you--"
"Don't say that--"
"Every single time one of us opens our mouths lately, I'm reminded how stupid I actually am. And I don't mean that as a term of endearment, Eric, I mean I am literally, by book definition, stupid. I'm no better than the bullshit waste of space that I was back in Kentucky!"
"You're wrong," he said, shaking his head. "You've never been more wrong. You're brilliant--"
"Drawing pictures isn't brilliance."
"Did you see yourself today? Did you hear yourself? You are a powerhouse. You're knowledgeable, you're--"
"Today was one of the most humiliating days of my entire career." Then she crossed her arms over her chest and pouted, "I hate rush hour traffic."
Eric looked at her for a second before reaching over and taking her by the hand, lacing his fingers with hers. Gently, his eyes still on hers, he raised her hand to his mouth and he kissed it, his lips soft and sweet. "For what it's worth, I think you're perfect."
"I'm not," she shook her head, her voice calming. "Today was--was not me, it wasn't--I was nervous. Unsure of myself. Scared to death..."
"Jules--"
"And then I look at you and you're so calm, cool, and collected and you had your shit together--"
Eric snorted a laugh. "You think I had my shit together? I was shaking in my fucking shoes. And speaking of uncomfortable situations, who the hell is this Sven guy, anyway, and how come I've never heard of him?"
Juliet sighed and rolled her eyes and shook her head as he looked out the window.
"Babe?" He pressed. "Sven? Is he some big secret?"
"Sven's been on vacation. A long one, in Sweden. Visiting family. He's Swedish."
"Swedish?" Eric squawked in disbelief. "I don't know what the hell you heard in there, but that guy is as American as you and me."
Releasing an exasperated breath, she turned to look at him. "Well, he wasn't born there. But his grandparents and extended family still live there."
"Hm. And he's your project manager?"
"Yes."
"You seem to have a penchant for muscle-bound blondes, don't you?"
"Oh, why don't you go ahead and fucking say it?" She replied in disgust. "You want to know how often I fuck him? You want to know how often he bends me over my desk and plows the hell out of me?"
"Jules, I--well, no, not--"
"Yes, you do. Come on, admit it. I'm a whore and you know it!"
"Well, fuck, look at him, Jules!" He finally exploded. "If I was a chick, I'd bang him! Why wouldn't you want to?"
"Because he's gay," she replied flatly.
"G-gay? That guy?"
"As a three dollar bill. He's a queen. Flaming. And he's married to a beautiful Puerto Rican named Marco and they just adopted their first child. That's why they took the trip to Sweden. One last hurrah before they got tied down. There. There it is." She sighed and she shook her head, looking out the window once more. "Jesus, I probably just broke every damned privacy law there is."
The truck was silent as the rush hour traffic began to creep along downtown Manhattan. Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, Eric broke the silence. "You're not a whore."
Rolling her eyes, she tightened the arms that were crossed over her chest.
"Jules. You're not--you're--here, look at me." Reaching over, he gently took her chin by his thumb and forefinger and turned her head to face him. "You're not a whore. And I never believed that you were. And from now on, no more talk like that. I don't like it when you badmouth my woman. It's not cool."
"I just want to go home," she breathed.
"We're getting there," he replied gently. Then he reached over and took her hand again, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "So, uh, lunchtime sex, huh? That was a first for me."
Blushing, she finally smiled and gave in to him. "I can't lie. That was pretty hot
"We should make that a regular thing. We could call each other up and be like, 'Hey. Your bathroom or mine?"
Juliet giggled at his joke before she grew serious again, still not entirely comfortable with the way that day had gone. "Look, I'm--I'm sorry I snapped at you today. All the times I snapped at you. I didn't mean it--"
"You don't have to apologize."
"Yes, I do. Because I care about you and I shouldn't treat you that way. I just get so...so frustrated with myself and the truth is, I...well, I didn't really want you to know about my dyslexia. It's embarrassing."
"It's nothing to be ashamed of."
"I feel like I'm two different people. I feel like I have to...to be this one person on the outside--at work or at events or functions or whatever. And then there's the person who lives in my condo and it's just--it's like I go home and I strip off all my pretend layers of the person everyone thinks I am. Nobody knows that I'm uneducated and that I have a learning disability or that I have no family and grew up in hell or was previously a battered wife statistic. Nobody knows that. And speaking of statistics, with those statistics, I should probably be laying in a gutter somewhere, if I may be honest. I think my existence, alone, is a fucking miracle."
"Juliet, I--ever since the moment I laid eyes on you, I just wanted to make you happy--"
"You do make me happy--"
"But there's only so much I can do. You can smile and laugh at me all day long. But I want you to be happy--completely happy. I want you to love yourself and be comfortable with yourself and just...be happy. Whatever it takes to get there. That's what I want. Jules, your relationship with yourself is the most important one you'll ever have. And it's the most dysfunctional relationship I've ever seen."
Juliet looked at him for a moment and then she fell silent as the traffic began to pick up and he turned his attention back to the road. She glanced down at her fingers, which were now only visible under the city lights that shone through the windows, and she began to fidget with them, pressing each of her fingernails between her thumb and forefingers. She knew he was right. She knew she was her own worst enemy. She knew that, in the end, there was nobody who could do anything for her but herself. But she also knew what that would entail--and she wasn't ready to delve any further into her demons than she already had been.
"Tell you what," he said, breaking her silence. "Work's over for the day. I'm tired, you're tired. Let's just go be lazy. Picnic dinner on the floor. I'll draw you a hot bath. And then we can just cuddle up and veg out in front of the TV for the rest of the night. How does that sound?"
As wonderful and appealing as that sounded, she turned her head and she eyed him warily. "Last time we 'vegged' out, you practically ran from my apartment and then turned up looking like a train wreck the next day."
Eric chuckled and shook his head. "That won't happen tonight, I promise."
"Oh, so you're some kind of superhero, where you can schedule your illnesses or something? Get sick on command?"
"Well, I am some kind of superhero," he winked at her and then turned his attention back to the road. "You're right about that. But, no, no sickness tonight. I feel fine. Honest."
"Okay," she smirked. "How about that lazy picnic dinner?"
Side-glancing at her, he nodded matter-of-factly. "I make a pretty mean sandwich."
"Yeah? As mean as the ice cream sundae you made for me?"
"For the record, you stole that sundae, I didn't even make it for you."
"You didn't even make it at all!"
"You watched me make every single bit of that--"
"Yeah. You were a puppet. My puppet, I pulled the strings on that sundae and it was fucking delicious."
"Yeah. Well. Keep your grubby puppet master fingers off of me this time, I know what I'm doing."
"Hrmph," she huffed, crossing her arms and looking out the window. "If you insist."
"Insist? Wait," he said, his voice growing with concern. "We are still talking about sandwiches, right?"
She shrugged her shoulders. "I dunno."
"Whatever," he laughed nervously. "You can't resist me, anyway."
"I'm pretty tired," she countered.
The truck was silent as they found themselves picking up speed once again. Eric's hand creeped over and took hers, his thumb lovingly caressing the back of it. "You're so beautiful," he offered, a boyish grin on his face.
Finally, she laughed, a deep, hearty laugh straight from her belly. "Nice try, Eric. Just shut up and drive."
Juliet wasn't concerned about his feelings. He was a smart man. And they both knew that he was getting laid tonight.