Page 16 of Forbidden Temptations

Mark gave a dry laugh. Then, still grinning, he straightened and strolled over to his desk, the closest to the door, and dropped into his chair. He spun it around to face Richard in the adjoining cubicle. “I bet you do.”

Richard did his best to ignore him. Him, and the chill that shivered down his spine. It wouldn’t do any good. McClaine was like a Jack Russell with an old sock whenever he got the sense he was getting under someone’s skin. And that was all he had, a scent, an inkling. Just a hunch. He didn’t, couldn’t know.

He was waiting for him to bite. Richard could see the mirth dancing in his eyes and knew it would be a mistake. So instead, he turned back to his computer. The screen was asleep, but a quick nudge of the mouse brought it alive. Prompted by a security box, he entered his password then watched the various excel spreadsheets pop back up. He bit back a groan. Would it have been too much to ask for a computer virus, or maybe just a good old power cut?

The Prometheus Account.

It had been due well over a week ago, and Scarlet had been on at him to get it done and on her desk by the end of the day.

He’d been working on it all morning, but with everything that had happened, his head just wasn’t in the right place. And all the while, Mark had watched him, grinning that inane, shit-eating grin. Just the prospect of a long afternoon of it all over again had him blindly reaching out for his mug of tea. It was cold as ice, but he didn’t care.

McClaine cocked a brow. “Ya know that tea’s been sitting there all morning, right?”

“Mhm…” Richard murmured, chugging it down, not even tasting it as the memory of Rebecca purring his name in that hot wanton tone burned his ears.

Mr Martin…

“I flushed my pen out in it while you were in the land of nod.”

“Mhh-” Eyes widening as the words and the acrid ink flavour registered, Richard pivoted and retched, spitting out the vile mixture into the waste bin beside the desk. “You… asshole!” Coughing, it took everything he had not to hurl the mug at McClaine. What little of his curse made it through the spluttering, however, was lost in the other man’s laughing.

“Hey! Why aren’t the pair of you out for lunch? Trying to bugger each other over the desk or something?”

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Richard shot a withering sideways glance at Dave Sing. “Or something.”

A third generation English-Nepalese, from the generation who had turned their back on the ancestral beliefs and completely assimilated to western culture, Dave Sing was also tall and thin. Handsome, with almond skin and copper eyes, but jet black that hair that he kept short and spiked. He’d joined the firm shortly after Richard, a fresh-faced graduate from Coventry University. Young and ambitious- Richard liked him well enough. An asset to the team, but in dire need of seasoning.

His own lunch in hand, the office’s third resident settled in his own seat and was about to take a bite of a generous beef burger when he got his first close-up look at Richard. The burger dropped into its wrapper. “Geez Rich, you look awful.”

"Yeah-"

"Yeah, well, what do you expect?” McClaine cut in, just managing to get control of his guffaw. “Ben Dover here had a wild weekend after the do last week.”

“What?” Richard rounded on him, his heart in his throat. No, he couldn’t know about Rebecca. There was no way he could know, unless-

“Oh, come on, Dick, don’t give us any of that old pony. That look your missus got when she saw old Walrus Face’s daughter putting the moves on you. You can’t honestly expect us to believe you didn’t get a little bit. Alice damn near started fucking you right there in front of everyone.”

“Fuck off,” Richard warned, but inside he felt the knot his insides had wound loosen. Slightly.

McClaine shot Sing a sly look and added under his breath, as if to keep the man sitting just meters away from hearing, “Pity she didn’t. What I wouldn’t do to see that fine ass bouncing-”

“Mike!I’m warning you,” Richard growled. “Shut your fucking hole or the next thing out of your mouth will be your teeth.” He emphasised the threat by pushing back from the desk and rising to his feet, the rancour contorting his features into a look of such maleficence it had both Sing and McClaine backing away.

McClaine raised both hands in supplication, his face turning pale. “Woah, Dick, woah. I’m just busting your balls. Okay. Okay? I-I I’m sorry. Jeez… just relax. Relax.” He was on his feet and backed round the desk.

Richard watched him go, letting him put a bit more space between them before dropping back into his chair.

All the tension seeming to evaporate from the room at once, and McClaine let go of a deep sigh. “We cool? God, my heart’s beating so fast I think you were about to give me a coronary.”

“Well, you do deserve it from time to time.” Richard kept the bitterness from his tone. McClaine was the sort who needed a slap now and then, and he'd enjoyed the opportunity. No matter what, he loved his wife too much to let that sort of slander pass unchastised, but it wasn’t worth settling at work. She’d be the first to tell him that. A man has to do what a man has to do, and the first thing a man had to do was to care for his family. Everything else, including giving mouthy gits a smack in the gob, came later.

“Ouch! That hurt. No, seriously mate, what’s with you today? You’ve been bumbling around here like a zombie high off its head.”

“Well, can you blame him?” Sing looked up, his burger already much reduced. “You said it yourself. Scarlet has it pretty wet for him. And you’ve heard the stories.”

“Yeah, but come on, you don’t believe all that shit, do you? What would she have to gain?”

“What do you mean, what would she have to gain?” Sing looked incredulous; his speech momentarily dissolved into the singsong accent of the Hindu.

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