eight. Bring your laundry.”
“My laundry?” I wrinkled my nose.
“Do you trust me?”
Damn it, I hated it when he asked that. “Yes.”
“Then just be there. Don’t be late.” He hung up before I could ask any additional questions.
Laundry? What was he planning on doing? Beating men into submission with my underthings?
Gross. I shook the image out of my mind and got back to the grind.
This side assignment of Lydia’s was seriously infringing on my regular work, and I had a ton of research to catch up on. We’d just landed an account for a major chocolate manufacturer, and the marketing geniuses upstairs wanted the history of the Easter Bunny for some brilliant idea they had.
I was neck deep in pagan lore (I never knew Easter wasn’t celebrated in the United States until after the Civil War) when a knock on my door disrupted me.
In this day of cellular technology and e-mail, no one knocks on my door. So when it happened, I didn’t know what to do except to stare at it like the plywood had suddenly sprouted arms.
A head poked in. “Hi, Katherine. Are you busy?”
I frowned at Rebecca. I was at work—of course I was busy. “Did you need something?”
Rebecca slipped in and, since there was no place for her to sit, she closed the door and leaned against it. “How’s it going?”
“Okay.”
Rebecca was the slave—I mean assistant—for the VP of operations. She hardly ever talked to me, much less visited me in my closet/office. She’s one of those women whose mouth wouldn’t melt butter in the presence of men or other women more powerful than her—like Lydia—but who didn’t give the time of day to those deemed lower than herself. Ergo, me. The mere fact that she was here made me suspicious.
She smiled. “I heard you had a meeting with Lydia today.”
I smiled back. “That’s right.”
“So.” She adjusted her skirt, which was too short for the workplace, though I bet it got her a decent salary. “What did you guys talk about?”
“Some research she wants me to do for her,” I answered cautiously. I was no dummy—Rebecca was on a fishing expedition. I just didn’t know why. Why would anyone care if Lydia was jonesing for sperm?
“What kind of research?”
Did her skirt just ride up to show more of her legs?
I blinked my eyes a few times. And then I gasped mentally. She was flirting with me. First that bartender, and now Rebecca. What was it about me that suddenly had women coming on to me?
Maybe I was exuding some kind of pheromone. “Did you know the chemicals that attract us to other people are predominantly found in sweat?”
Her eyes widened. Uh-oh—I hoped she wasn’t getting turned on even more by my intellect. It was one of my most alluring features.
I needed to nip this in the bud before she got the wrong idea about me. “Rebecca, I went to this club the other night. The bartender there was really nice. You should go meet her.” I wrote down the name and address of the bar on a sticky note and handed it to her. “She’s a doll—you’ll love her.”
She looked down at the note with a puzzled expression. I smiled encouragingly at her. It couldn’t be easy being open about your sexuality, even in this day and age. People could be judgmental. I added what I hoped was an extra bit of compassion to my gaze.
She walked out of my office like she was astounded. Probably overwhelmed by my understanding.
I worked nonstop until after seven—not planned but because I lost track of time. And I still had to pick up some laundry before I met Luc.
I looked at my Timex. Expense a cab? I sighed and dashed out of the building to catch the Muni home.
Of course the bus was late, so I arrived at home with milliseconds before I was due to meet Luc a mile away. I grabbed all the laundry I could find and stuffed it into a large bag. I took the time to make sure my hair was under control and even touched up my gloss before I waddled out (my bag was heavy).
The bus stop was a
“My laundry?” I wrinkled my nose.
“Do you trust me?”
Damn it, I hated it when he asked that. “Yes.”
“Then just be there. Don’t be late.” He hung up before I could ask any additional questions.
Laundry? What was he planning on doing? Beating men into submission with my underthings?
Gross. I shook the image out of my mind and got back to the grind.
This side assignment of Lydia’s was seriously infringing on my regular work, and I had a ton of research to catch up on. We’d just landed an account for a major chocolate manufacturer, and the marketing geniuses upstairs wanted the history of the Easter Bunny for some brilliant idea they had.
I was neck deep in pagan lore (I never knew Easter wasn’t celebrated in the United States until after the Civil War) when a knock on my door disrupted me.
In this day of cellular technology and e-mail, no one knocks on my door. So when it happened, I didn’t know what to do except to stare at it like the plywood had suddenly sprouted arms.
A head poked in. “Hi, Katherine. Are you busy?”
I frowned at Rebecca. I was at work—of course I was busy. “Did you need something?”
Rebecca slipped in and, since there was no place for her to sit, she closed the door and leaned against it. “How’s it going?”
“Okay.”
Rebecca was the slave—I mean assistant—for the VP of operations. She hardly ever talked to me, much less visited me in my closet/office. She’s one of those women whose mouth wouldn’t melt butter in the presence of men or other women more powerful than her—like Lydia—but who didn’t give the time of day to those deemed lower than herself. Ergo, me. The mere fact that she was here made me suspicious.
She smiled. “I heard you had a meeting with Lydia today.”
I smiled back. “That’s right.”
“So.” She adjusted her skirt, which was too short for the workplace, though I bet it got her a decent salary. “What did you guys talk about?”
“Some research she wants me to do for her,” I answered cautiously. I was no dummy—Rebecca was on a fishing expedition. I just didn’t know why. Why would anyone care if Lydia was jonesing for sperm?
“What kind of research?”
Did her skirt just ride up to show more of her legs?
I blinked my eyes a few times. And then I gasped mentally. She was flirting with me. First that bartender, and now Rebecca. What was it about me that suddenly had women coming on to me?
Maybe I was exuding some kind of pheromone. “Did you know the chemicals that attract us to other people are predominantly found in sweat?”
Her eyes widened. Uh-oh—I hoped she wasn’t getting turned on even more by my intellect. It was one of my most alluring features.
I needed to nip this in the bud before she got the wrong idea about me. “Rebecca, I went to this club the other night. The bartender there was really nice. You should go meet her.” I wrote down the name and address of the bar on a sticky note and handed it to her. “She’s a doll—you’ll love her.”
She looked down at the note with a puzzled expression. I smiled encouragingly at her. It couldn’t be easy being open about your sexuality, even in this day and age. People could be judgmental. I added what I hoped was an extra bit of compassion to my gaze.
She walked out of my office like she was astounded. Probably overwhelmed by my understanding.
I worked nonstop until after seven—not planned but because I lost track of time. And I still had to pick up some laundry before I met Luc.
I looked at my Timex. Expense a cab? I sighed and dashed out of the building to catch the Muni home.
Of course the bus was late, so I arrived at home with milliseconds before I was due to meet Luc a mile away. I grabbed all the laundry I could find and stuffed it into a large bag. I took the time to make sure my hair was under control and even touched up my gloss before I waddled out (my bag was heavy).
The bus stop was a
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