Page 62 of About that Fling
Jenna turned to face her aunt. “How do you know?”
“About you and Adam, or about the fact that Mia will forgive you?”
The words hit her like a punch to the gut, and all she could do was nod.
“Intuition, dear,” Gert said. “And a fondness for stories about love and longing and human relationships.”
Jenna looked down at the plate in her hand, thinking about her aunt’s books. “We aren’t just talking about Adam and me now, are we?”
Gert reached out and patted her hand. “We’re talking about whatever you’re comfortable talking about, dear. And if you’re not comfortable,” she shrugged, withdrawing her hand, “well then, we’ll continue to pretend nothing’s going on. Is that what you’d like?”
Jenna kept her eyes on the plate. This was her chance. The opportunity to have everything out in the open. Gert’s writing career and the possibility of worldwide exposure. Her feelings for Adam and her fears about what that might mean for Mia. The fling that could cost her professional reputation, even if they waited until Adam’s contract ended.
Everyone would remember. Everyone would know.
She reached up to turn off the taps, then handed the plate to her aunt. “Let’s keep pretending,” she whispered. “Just for a little while longer.”
“Can you please state, for the record, whether this is or is not your genitalia?”
Kendall Freemont pushed the photograph forward across the table in the HR conference room while Jenna sat beside her, doing her best to keep a straight face.
It wasn’t easy. The task was complicated by the fact that Adam sat directly across from her. Beside him was the man who’d been caught taking one of the least impressive dick pics Jenna had ever seen.
Brett Lombard looked like a mouse caught in a trap and thinking of chewing off its own foot. Considering the image on the paper in front of him, the mouse analogy wasn’t so far off.
“I’m going to repeat the question, Mr. Lombard,” Kendall said, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “I don’t think I need to remind you, you’re the president of the nurses’ union. You have a professional responsibility to answer honestly. Is this, or is this not, your genitalia?”
Adam cleared his throat and turned to Brett. “As the contractor hired to assist this organization with labor negotiations, I’d advise you to tell your employer anything they ask.” He leaned closer to Brett, glancing once at Kendall. “However, if I were your attorney, I’d advise you not to answer that question.”
Brett frowned. “Aren’t you both of those things?”
“I’m not technically your attorney,” Adam said. “I was trying to help you out.”
“This is pointless,” Kendall said, throwing up her hands. “We know you sent the photo to your colleague using the company email system with a subject line that read, ‘check out my junk.’ The message got stuck in our filters.”
Which is not where he’d hoped the object in question might be stuck, Jenna mused, trying hard not to glance at the picture again. She stole a look at Adam instead, then realized her mistake. He looked confident and professional with an air of genuine compassion, which was sexy as hell. Christ, this is exactly why companies had policies about co-workers dating each other. One longing look across the boardroom and the next thing you know, you’re spread-eagled on the conference table.
Jenna pushed that image out of her mind and arranged her face into something she hoped might pass for professional composure. Adam was doing a much better job of it than she was. Then again, she could see the telltale crinkle around his eyes that meant he was on the brink of losing it.
Yet another reason companies don’t like colleagues to date. You know entirely too much about what the other person is thinking.
Jenna took a deep breath and tore her thoughts and her eyes away from Adam. Instead, she regarded Brett with her most serious expression.
“Ordinarily, you’d be dismissed outright for an offense like this,” she said. “Belmont Health System takes sexual harassment very seriously. We’d usually handle this situation as a personnel issue through HR, and there’d be no need for Mr. Thomas or me to even be party to this discussion.”
Brett looked down at his dick pic, seemingly lost in his thoughts. Jenna did her best to avert her eyes, though it was hard. Not the penis—it was actually quite flaccid. Honestly, what was the point in sending a dick pic if it looked like a half-filled water balloon?
Focus, dammit, she commanded herself, tearing her eyes from the photo. Brett did the same, then frowned at her. “Why are you here?”
“Because in case it escaped your notice, this organization is in the midst of one of the most contentious labor battles in its history,” Jenna said, smacking her hand on the table. She meant to underscore the seriousness of her statement, but instead she sent the dick pic flying across the table.
It drifted into Adam’s lap, where he stared at it a moment as though analyzing the appropriate next move. Kendall stared, too, clearly unsure what HR protocol called for in this situation.
At last, Adam picked up the photo by one corner and set it gingerly in front of Brett. “Your penis, sir. If, in fact, it is your penis.”
Brett nodded. “Thank you.”
Jenna sighed. “Brett, you are a key member of the bargaining team, which means you’ve become a high-profile individual as far as the local media is concerned.”
