Page 73 of My Office Rival

“Exit plan? What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s probably on indefinite hiatus after this deal blows up, but I had planned to open my own firm. Nothing big, just a corporate boutique, me and one other attorney, if I can find someone. That independence is all I want.” My hands flexed on the wheel. “The origination credit from this deal was going to make that a reality.”

“Not anymore, though.” Her head dropped back against the seat. “Shit. I’m sorry, Jason. You have just as much to lose as I do.” Not really. She stood to lose her job because of this. I didn’t say it, though.

“I’ll be fine. I can stay at the firm, keep my head down, wait for another deal like this.” Even though origination credit, especially of this size, was extremely rare for associates. The thought of staying at the firm, keeping my carefully controlled mask on for another year, or two, made me want to punch something.

Cynthia must have sensed it, because she said, “That’s not what you want, though.”

“Not at all.”

We pulledup to the park after a brief drive, and Cynthia’s eyes were wide.

“More nature?”

I huffed a laugh at her tone and swung out of the car. She stood in the sunshine and stretched, her cropped sweater riding up to reveal a thin strip of skin above her jeans.

“I think you’ll like this.” We made our way toward the cluster of tents. Vendors were set up and small groups of people meandered through, pushing strollers, walking dogs, sipping coffee.

“Did you bring me to a farmers’ market?” Her tone was incredulous.

“I couldn’t think of anything more New York. Isn’t this what people do on the weekends?” I grinned at her.

“True, except I can’t cook.” She looked disgruntled at her shortcomings. I pulled her against me, under my arm, smiling into her hair.

“There’s a stand here that’s supposed to have amazingboreg. I thought you might like that. And if you want me to make you dinner, I will. You can boss me around and pick out all the vegetables.”

“I do enjoy that,” she said thoughtfully. “Bossing you around is my very favorite activity.”

Need tightened my gut for what felt like the fiftieth time that day. “Knock it off,” I growled into her hair. I couldn’t help but tap her on the ass and she started. “Stop trying to rile me up.”

She turned, the mischievous grin on her face making her eyes light up and her lips curve in a wicked smile. “I can’t help it. You’re too fun. But also, Jason, thank you.” Her whole face softened and she seemed to melt toward me. Her hands landed on my chest, and mine landed on her waist before I had a chance to think.She’s not yours, even though she feels like she is.

“You’re trying to give me a New York day, and I love it. And it’s been a really long time since I hadboreg. My dad would be so jealous.”

Her soft eyes threatened to swallow me whole.Anything for you.My heart thumped.

“Of course,” I said, somewhat hoarsely. “I know you’re missing your routine. New York or nowhere, but this isn’t bad either.”

“No,” she responded, her eyes trained on mine. “It’s not bad at all.” With that, she pressed her hand to my chest and stretched up to kiss me. Her lips were soft, inviting, delicious, and I instinctively deepened the kiss, my hand rising up to cradle her jaw. The warm weight of her against my chest made me want to crush her to me. I brushed my thumb over her cheek as I slipped my tongue against the seam of her mouth. Her lips parted on a gasp. The breathy sound brought me back to reality. We were in a park, in public, surrounded by children. She dropped back down to her heels, lips parted and swollen, eyes slightly glassy. My breath heaved. I wanted to drag her home, to spend the entire day worshipping her. From the wild look in her eye, I thought she might want the same thing.

“Come on, let’s buy some vegetables. I’ll let you carry the bag.” Her voice was slightly hoarse. At least one of us had some sense.

She pulled me along through the stalls, and I stumbled after her. I picked out new asparagus, peas, lettuce, all in a stupor. I tucked her under my arm as we walked, let myself be free with the lingering touches on her arm, the smiles when she joked suggestively about the size of the asparagus stalks.We look like a couple. After all, I’d watched thousands of couples in New York do this, but I’d never had the closeness for myself. When we finally go to the baker sellingboreg, her eyes lit up.

“These look just like the ones my grandma used to bring us.” She was practically hopping with excitement, and I grinned. The stand was run by a woman in her forties, who seemed to appreciate Cynthia’s enthusiasm as she handed over two hot, flaky pastries.

“It’s a family recipe,” she explained. “I hope you enjoy. Has your boyfriend here ever had one?”

Cynthia gave an awkward laugh, her cheeks pink. “Oh, um. He’s not my boyfriend.”

My body went numb as I handed the cash over to the proprietor.

“Oh, I’m sorry. You just make a really cute couple.” The woman smiled, slightly embarrassed.

Cynthia chattered as we walked away, and I bit into my pastry without tasting it.He’s not my boyfriend.Her words reverberated in my head.Fuck. I wanted to scream. I guess if you pretended you didn’t do love for long enough, it became a reality.

45

---