spared her that much.
Sandy's desk phone rang and she picked up the pasties, cradling the box in both arms, before dashing back out to answer it.
Bry glumly assessed the rose parade that had parked itself in her office. She ought to phone him, but she didn't have his number. She'd have to ask Carl for it and then Helena would find out. Bad.
What if it wasn't him? Like it could be anyone else. It was over the top just like him. And she had no secret admirers to blame it on. Clearing a path through the roses, she finally found her desk and the chair with the package. She sat, holding it gingerly in her lap.
The phone rang on her desk. She picked it up.
"It's Kelly Minton."
"Ok, put her through."
There was a click and then her friend's voice shouted down the line at her, "Where the hell have you been? I heard through the grapevine that your apartment was evacuated last night in the storm. Why didn't you come over here?"
"I didn't want to bother you."
"Bother me?"
"You might have been busy."
"Yeah, right. Like I have anyone to get busy with." Kelly's fiancé was killed in a car accident six months ago and she'd rarely left her apartment since the funeral. Everyone kept trying to get her out again, but Kelly was the sort of person who didn't want to be forced into recovery or "cheered up". Bryony understood that and never pushed her. It was one of the reasons why they were still friends when most people had given up on Kelly's moods. "So where did you go last night? You were late to work so it must have been good."
Oh, shit. "I stayed with someone."
"I hope it wasn't a man."
Bryony was looking at the package in her lap, thinking about him spanking her ass with those lovely hands of his. He said he wanted a mistress, a disposable woman. At least he was honest about it, she mused. Honest about the limitations of his affections. As she'd told him, he was born in the wrong era. "What?" she murmured. "What man?"
"Any man. I've told you before. Men are bastards."
That was Kelly's latest mantra, her most recent reason for not going out to meet anyone. "I know. Trust me, I know," Bryony answered with a sigh.
"So, who was it then?"
She bit her lip. "A man."
"I knew it!" Kelly laughed.
"It was harmless." She had it all under control. Got it out of her system. It was one night only. Tonight he'd probably take out the woman who called him Benny and left her hair iron in his guest bathroom.
"Men are never harmless, Bry."
"It's not the men. It's what we do with them, how we handle them. They're only bastards if we let them be." It was like pastries, she thought, sliding a finger under the tape at one end of the package. They were only bad if a person got carried away with them. Everything was ok in moderation. A little nibble now and then.
"What were you on last night?" Kelly demanded. "Sounds like you're still high."
"I had one margarita."
"You never could hold your liquor."
"Not like you maybe." She smiled, tucking the receiver under her chin and tearing the brown paper off the package.
"Want to meet for lunch? I'll tidy the apartment if you bring sandwiches."
"Ah. I would, but I have to work through lunch. Important client coming in this afternoon and I've been warned to prepare. How about tomorrow?"
"It's Saturday. I have to meet my father for lunch. The once a month lecture about getting a real job and packing up the writing."
"Ok. Monday?"
"Sure. See you then, drunken slut."
She chuckled. "See you, frigid bitch."
They both hung up laughing. Bryony realized she was feeling remarkably light headed. Maybe she really was still suffering from that margarita. The paper fell from her lap and revealed a shoe box. She lifted the lid. Scarlet Manolo Blahniks. Right size. And unmistakably not faux.
If it was anyone but Numbnuts, she thought wryly, it might be love.
* * * *
He strode into the conference room, vaguely aware of the eyes trailing him through the main office, some shy, some bold, some very
Sandy's desk phone rang and she picked up the pasties, cradling the box in both arms, before dashing back out to answer it.
Bry glumly assessed the rose parade that had parked itself in her office. She ought to phone him, but she didn't have his number. She'd have to ask Carl for it and then Helena would find out. Bad.
What if it wasn't him? Like it could be anyone else. It was over the top just like him. And she had no secret admirers to blame it on. Clearing a path through the roses, she finally found her desk and the chair with the package. She sat, holding it gingerly in her lap.
The phone rang on her desk. She picked it up.
"It's Kelly Minton."
"Ok, put her through."
There was a click and then her friend's voice shouted down the line at her, "Where the hell have you been? I heard through the grapevine that your apartment was evacuated last night in the storm. Why didn't you come over here?"
"I didn't want to bother you."
"Bother me?"
"You might have been busy."
"Yeah, right. Like I have anyone to get busy with." Kelly's fiancé was killed in a car accident six months ago and she'd rarely left her apartment since the funeral. Everyone kept trying to get her out again, but Kelly was the sort of person who didn't want to be forced into recovery or "cheered up". Bryony understood that and never pushed her. It was one of the reasons why they were still friends when most people had given up on Kelly's moods. "So where did you go last night? You were late to work so it must have been good."
Oh, shit. "I stayed with someone."
"I hope it wasn't a man."
Bryony was looking at the package in her lap, thinking about him spanking her ass with those lovely hands of his. He said he wanted a mistress, a disposable woman. At least he was honest about it, she mused. Honest about the limitations of his affections. As she'd told him, he was born in the wrong era. "What?" she murmured. "What man?"
"Any man. I've told you before. Men are bastards."
That was Kelly's latest mantra, her most recent reason for not going out to meet anyone. "I know. Trust me, I know," Bryony answered with a sigh.
"So, who was it then?"
She bit her lip. "A man."
"I knew it!" Kelly laughed.
"It was harmless." She had it all under control. Got it out of her system. It was one night only. Tonight he'd probably take out the woman who called him Benny and left her hair iron in his guest bathroom.
"Men are never harmless, Bry."
"It's not the men. It's what we do with them, how we handle them. They're only bastards if we let them be." It was like pastries, she thought, sliding a finger under the tape at one end of the package. They were only bad if a person got carried away with them. Everything was ok in moderation. A little nibble now and then.
"What were you on last night?" Kelly demanded. "Sounds like you're still high."
"I had one margarita."
"You never could hold your liquor."
"Not like you maybe." She smiled, tucking the receiver under her chin and tearing the brown paper off the package.
"Want to meet for lunch? I'll tidy the apartment if you bring sandwiches."
"Ah. I would, but I have to work through lunch. Important client coming in this afternoon and I've been warned to prepare. How about tomorrow?"
"It's Saturday. I have to meet my father for lunch. The once a month lecture about getting a real job and packing up the writing."
"Ok. Monday?"
"Sure. See you then, drunken slut."
She chuckled. "See you, frigid bitch."
They both hung up laughing. Bryony realized she was feeling remarkably light headed. Maybe she really was still suffering from that margarita. The paper fell from her lap and revealed a shoe box. She lifted the lid. Scarlet Manolo Blahniks. Right size. And unmistakably not faux.
If it was anyone but Numbnuts, she thought wryly, it might be love.
* * * *
He strode into the conference room, vaguely aware of the eyes trailing him through the main office, some shy, some bold, some very
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