Page 16 of My Office Rival (Keep Your Enemy Closer #2)

JASON

C ynthia was avoiding me. Or at least that’s what I assumed.

I hadn’t seen her since work, and somehow the good bottle of wine I had opened last night had disappeared.

I was drinking a shitty beer with my delivery pizza, instead of a nice glass of cabernet, and responding to an email from one of my junior associates.

My phone dinged. A text from my new roommate.

Cynthia

Is that pizza I smell?

To respond and risk more time with her, when I was already so weak where she was concerned? Or to ignore her, and risk her ire, which promised to come out in the worst possible way? I groaned. I couldn’t handle another morning like this morning. My fingers flew over the keyboard as I responded.

Jason

It is. And if you share some of the wine you’re hoarding, I’ll give you a slice.

She didn’t respond, but I heard her moving around overhead and then thumping down the stairs.

I went to straighten in my chair and check my teeth, but stopped myself.

Why do I care what she thinks? I lounged indolently and watched her storm into the kitchen.

Her hair was pulled back in a high ponytail, and she was dressed in a combination of yoga pants and a cropped tank top that seemed designed to drive me to insanity.

“Hi. Can I have some of that?” Her face was slightly flushed and her eyes were wide. She looked like she had in my bed. I really need to stop thinking about that night.

“If you give me a glass of that good wine I opened.”

She blushed and held the bottle out sheepishly. “I finished it. Sorry. You have good taste.”

“I know. You couldn’t leave me a glass?”

She made a face and flopped down across from me. “I had a very long day. A certain opposing counsel was trying to make things difficult for me.”

“Just doing my job.”

“Ugh. I don’t feel like sparring with you tonight. Today sucked.”

Was there more to that than just my being a jerk?

I watched as she reached over and grabbed a piece of pizza, seeing the brittleness lingering just beneath the surface.

Had she been drinking that wine because of me?

You’re an ass . Had I slipped so deep into my professional persona that I had forgotten how to be a real person?

She took a bite and let out a little noise. “I love pepperoni. I pegged you for a white pizza kind of guy. The worst.”

“What an indictment of my character,” I teased. “Is it worse to like white pizza or worse to admit I prefer Hawaiian, but they didn’t have it?”

“That’s a crime against humanity,” she mumbled around her food. “A good salty-sweet combination can be delicious, though. I had some fantastic chocolate ice cream with salt on it a few weeks ago. It was practically a sexual experience.”

Her eyes closed at the memory, and I stiffened. Was it possible to get turned on by ice cream? Time to change the subject .

“So, other than your dislike of a certain opposing counsel, anything else you want to get off your chest?”

“To you?” She looked suspicious.

“Sure. I’m here and I’m as good as anyone.

” I kept my tone casual, but suddenly, I craved any morsel of information she would grant me.

“You can ask me anything you want after.” Take the olive branch, sweetheart.

I hated the way she looked at me, suspicious, closed off.

When she wasn’t trying to mess with my head, that was.

“I don’t know.” She chewed and cocked her head. “If I’m honest with you, will I get it thrown back in my face?”

My stomach bottomed out. “That comment was a mistake,” I said quietly, holding her gaze, until she flicked it down and twisted a bit of napkin in her hands.

She sighed. “You apologized. Thank you. I’m just a little…sensitive where that kind of thing is concerned.”

I considered her, waiting. I could be very patient when I wanted something.

“I, um, turned down a job at the New York Civil Liberties Union to take the position at TJR,” she finally added.

“Damn.” I blew out a breath. “That’s impressive. Doesn’t the NYCLU take like two law students a year or something?”

“Yeah.” Her expression twisted. “I think you mean stupid, not impressive. I’ve been clawing my way back to something like that for the last two years.”

“Why turn it down, then?”

“Money. Family obligations. The usual reasons, I guess.” She gave a tiny shrug.

“My brother needed tuition money. My parents’ car had broken down.

I just didn’t see a way to turn down a first-year salary for the peanuts they pay you in public interest. Some of it was pride, maybe.

I wanted that salary to validate me. But my family didn’t push me to take the public interest job, so I didn’t. ”

You’re one of those. My callous words echoed, and I grimaced. Asshole .

“You regret it.”

“Yeah. I do.” She sighed and sipped the dregs of her wine. “I mean, I don’t, but I do. I think you understand. My life would look very different now if I had taken that route.”

I nodded slowly. “I do. But I’ve never really questioned my path. It’s always been about money for me. Money and success.” I’d always wanted to be on top, which meant I’d chosen the biggest firm, with the most prestigious name and the most prestigious practice.

“Lucky you.” She scrunched her nose. “It’s probably why you’re so freaking good at what you do, though.” She trailed off and looked away.

I hate this. We were enemies at the office, but here, in the house, seeing her looking so lost? I had the insane urge to gather her in my arms, or make her laugh. Yeah, definitely insane, seeing as I couldn’t remember the last time I’d made a woman laugh.

“Do you want to ask that question now?” I asked.

She brightened. “Sure. I’ll play. Can I have a beer first?”

“Finishing my wine wasn’t enough for you?” I teased, keeping my tone light, so she knew I wasn’t serious. I got up and passed her a cold one, watching her eyes heat as she scanned my body. Stop looking at me like that, sweetheart.

“I don’t even like this. But it beats drinking water, I guess.” She sipped and grimaced. “Damn, that’s gross.” She tapped her index finger against her lips and I stilled, gazing at her pillowy bottom lip.

“I’ll go easy on you. Uptown or downtown?” she asked.

“Uptown,” I answered easily.

She made a go-on motion with her hand.

“Uptown is a calm oasis in comparison to downtown. Downtown is chaotic.” I shook my head. What I liked was the control, the routine.

“More like lively,” she shot back.

“I knew you’d be a downtown girl,” I responded. It fit. She was all light and fire.

“I’m really a Queens girl, but that’s way too far from the office. And I just knew you’d be an uptown person. Ugh.” She mock shuddered.

“That bad?” I grinned at her vigorous nod and swigged my beer. “ So Queens, eh? I could see it.” And I could. She talked fast, thought fast.

“No joking about Queens,” she said and pointed her finger. Her eyes shot fire, and I smothered a smile.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I responded solemnly. “Queens has the best food in New York. That ceviche place in Jackson Heights? To die for.”

She brightened. Clearly food was the way to her heart. “Oh, it’s on my list. One of these days when I leave the office at a reasonable hour.”

“You work like mad, don’t you?” I asked. It was apparent. She was always sending deal emails after midnight, always delving into points in detail on the phone.

“I do,” she replied and shrugged. “I have to keep up with the Bretts of the world. You know it’s tough being a woman in a law firm.” She sat back like she expected me to argue. Careful, Jason .

“I know.” I nodded. “A lot of repeating yourself only to have a male associate take your ideas, right?”

“Yeah,” she said and grimaced. “Whatever. At least you’ve been a right asshole across the board. You’re just about as rude to Gerald as you are to me.”

A laugh burst out of me and she grinned. “You noticed that?” I asked, though I knew she had.

“You’re kidding right? It’s kind of your thing,” she said. She leaned in and her eyes danced. “The whole GQ model, but I eat babies for breakfast vibe.” She cocked a brow. “So, do you?”

“GQ model, eh?” I smirked at her. “Go on.” My fist tightened on the beer bottle. You know she thinks you’re hot . Attraction is not the issue .

“Of course you focus on that.” She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. Her even teeth flashed over her pink lower lip and my stomach tightened. I want those lips on my body. On my cock . I shifted uncomfortably.

“So, anything else you want to know?” I asked.

She tilted her head. “I’m just drunk enough to ask this question. Why were you so insistent that we can’t have sex again? ”

Her words hung in the air, and I swallowed. Losing my job was part of the reason, but the other part of it was embarrassing. Because I was terrified. Because every woman I slept with walked away from me. Once was enough and twice meant I needed to bare myself to them. And that meant rejection.

She held my gaze as I struggled, never backing down.

“Because I never do more than one night,” I finally said. The words were dragged out of me. I watched her eyes fly wide.

She snorted. “You’re such a dick.” She got up and paced into the kitchen.

I followed her to where she leaned back against the sink and snagged her beer from where she had placed it on the counter.

I drained it, watching her watch me, seeing her eyes darken with desire and her breaths come shorter.

As I drank it, I imagined my lips were on hers, instead of on a glass her lips had also touched. Pathetic.

I set the beer down on the counter. “I’m a realist.”

“That’s just an excuse to be a dick. So, what, you don’t do relationships and you never fall in love?” She challenged, like she already knew the answer.

“No. I don’t do either of those things. Too much complication. One night or nothing.” A second night with you could be so good, sweetheart. I could finally show you all the things I’ve wanted to do to you.

She rolled her eyes. “Forget I asked.”

“Do I get another question now?” I asked.

“It depends on whether your answers to mine are going to keep being annoying.” She looked so put out that I had to laugh.

“I’ll try to keep it to a minimum. What about you? You’re not in a relationship.” At least I didn’t think she was. My stomach sank at the possibility.

“I’m not,” she said slowly. “But I don’t have a rule about it. I just don’t have time.”

“You sound like me.”

“I don’t,” she protested. “Well, maybe a little. My career and my independence are so important to me… I don’t remember the last man I met who was comfortable with my lifestyle. They say you can ha ve it all, but as a woman in this profession, I know that’s not true.” Her voice was small, resigned.

“I wish I could tell you otherwise.” I gave her a half smile, and she smiled back, sadness lurking in her gaze.

“It’s okay. I chose this.”

“Do you want to ask a question?” I leaned back against the counter next to her and bumped her with my shoulder. It was the only comfort I could give her, the only touch I would permit myself.

“Honestly, Jason, I’m pretty exhausted. I’m going to head to bed. Thanks for the pizza and the company.”

My heart sank. I wanted to keep playing with her, wanted to bask in her lightness and her fire. As she turned to head upstairs, I cleared my throat.

“We can keep this going, if you want.”

“What do you mean?” Her lovely eyes looked confused.

“This not being an asshole to each other thing that we are doing now. At least at home.” I gestured between us and she smiled.

“Thanks. I would like that. Friends, but no promises when we’re at the office. Good night, Jason.”

Friends. Huh. I can do that with her. I watched her perfect ass sway up the stairs. Yeah, friends. That would be easy.