Page 44 of Start With A Slap

Just Wait

“What are we doing, Sever?”

With a philosophical squint, he said, “I think they call it ‘walking’.”

“Yes,awayfrom that thing they call a ‘conference’.” The subtext being, if she wasn’t doing what her husband believed she was doing here, how could she keep a clear conscience? Or even a partly translucent one? It didn’t matter that said husband had yet to report back post-Kara encounter. She believed in him—mostly. And she believed in herself, of course; completely! But still... “Shouldn’t we be doing less walking and more working?”

“You are working. Been on the clock since noon.”

“So far I’ve sat with you at an executive luncheon, or should I say an asskissathon in your honor, only to be leered at by your smarmy friends and now,” she gestured at a weeping willow tree, “we’re strolling through a pretty park.”

“Those weren’t my friends. And I thought you did a bang-up job. Way you cut them all down without actually saying anything offensive...” He chuckled. “Now that’s art.”

“So my job is to entertain you by belittling your friends.”

“No, that’s a bonus, and I told you, those people aren’t my friends.” He patted his suit pockets and found a pack of Gitanes. “Your job is to make sure I’m at my best. Let me know my tie’s on straight; if I’ve something in my teeth, that sort of thing.”

Seriously? “Have you tried a mirror?”

“I’d much prefer to look at you.”

She averted her gaze and closed her jacket. “That’s not a very colleague-y thing to say.”

“Colleague—?” Before she could restate his promise to treat her as such, he nodded in recognition. “Right. Well, as colleagues go, you happen to be unusually easy on the eyes.”

She sighed. “Just admit it, Sever. You flew me out here to be your escort.”

“Escort?” Tapping the pack against his hand, he twitched a brow at her. “Decide to give me a tumble after all?”

Again with the involuntary blushing. “Not that kind of escort.”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Flying you out here to keep me company. I must be some sort of diabolical fiend. WhatwillI think of next?”

She watched him suck a cigarette out of the pack, his forehead crumpled like James Dean. “What happened to the cigars?”

“You said you didn’t like them.”

“Unfiltered French tobacco, not much of an aroma improvement, F.Y.I.”

He closed his Zippo, savored an inhale. “Therearelimits to what I’ll do for you.”

Yeah, right, she almost said aloud before catching the odd of that sentiment.

When they stopped before a ritzy stone building at the park’s end, he stepped on his cigarette and said, “Something I need to do here. It’ll be quick.”

“This isn’t your flat, is it? Because if it is?—”

“It’s not my flat.” He rang the bell, took a deep, bracing breath and turned to her. “Do I look all right?”

Forced to acknowledge Sever’s undeniable all right-ness to his face, Ivy blinked and stammered. “W... Uh... Y-you look—” To her horror, the wordfuckablesprang to mind and stayed there. “Fuh-ine.”

That peep of an answer didn’t quite satisfy him. What did he want from her?

“You look— really — the tie? Well tied. I told you, you’re better off with a mirr... wh-wh-what are you—” He was fixing her coat collar and his knuckles kept grazing her neck, making the skin prickle. “Touching!”

He held up his hands and said without irony, “Sorry. Sorry.”

A man answered the door and nodded at Sever.

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