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“Don’t forget potato salad.”
“Disgusting,” I breathe.
We’ve been leaning closer with every word but then Liz slumps back in her chair, takes a sip of her martini, and smirks. “And that’s why I needed to get out of there as fast as possible. Straight A’s led to Columbia which led to an internship at Robinson and Robinson which led me right to where I am now.”
“Occupying my office,” I finish for her.
“I’m sorry, your office?”
“You’re not forgiven. I had dibs on that corner office you so rudely swept out from under me.”
Liz’s eyes widen in mock surprise. “You… You had dibs? My god no wonder you were so rude to me right off the bat. You should have said so. I was so confused, and now to find out it was all justified? I’m humiliated.”
I can’t help it. “Actually I had no idea who you were the first time we met.”
Oh so we’re going here? It flashes across Liz’s face for a moment before dissipating as quickly as it’d come.
“But I knew who you were,” she says, lightly but carefully.
“Did you?” I ask. “There were a lot of assumptions made, if I recall correctly.”
“You were hitting on me,” she says, rather defensively. “Terribly. I have no regrets.”
“And I apologize. That wasn’t like me.”
“Oh no?” She’s smiling, but she doesn’t believe me. And maybe it’s wanting to remove all of the doubt she has about me that causes me to say the next words.
“It was bad. But I was thrown off my game.”
“And why’s that?”
“Because you were the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.”
Now Liz is the one who’s thrown off her game. Her mouth fights to hold back a smile and her eyes dart to the right of me, to the left, anywhere to avoid looking into my eyes.
“And here I thought you had game,” she finally mumbles.
“I thought I did too.”
Her eyes finally flick to mine. They’re wary, questioning. “Rhett…” she starts. “Is this the right time for this? The deal just imploded. You’re days away from being destitute.”
“On the contrary, I think it’s the perfect time,” I say. “I have three days left with a limitless Visa and a get-out-of-jail-free card. Why not use it to show you a good time?”
“And what does a good time with Rhett Westing look like?”
Like you splayed on your back, white-knuckling the sheets as I make you come for the third time. The imagery makes the hairs on the back of my neck stiffen. And they aren’t the only thing. I don’t say it though. Instead I let my expression paint her a picture and it’s apparent she knows exactly what I’m envisioning.
A blush creeps up her neck, but Liz is not backing down from my latest challenge. And in true Liz fashion, she responds with a challenge of her own.
“So how do you want to use that get-out-of-jail-free card?” she asks, her voice low and taut with a quivering anticipation.
Without breaking her gaze, I stand and offer her my hand.
* * *
“We are definitely not supposed to be here,” Liz says.
We’re standing in the staff service stairwell, Liz shifting nervously from foot to foot as I input a code into the door in front of us.
