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“Wanna try the gyro truck today, or barbecue?” Kirby asked.
“Or Peruvian?” Evelyn asked.
Since there weren’t as many restaurants south of the Mall as there were on the north side near all the hotels, the lunch trucks congregated outside our building on Maryland.
“No, thanks. I’m staying in and doing soup today,” I replied.
Kirby tilted her head in disbelief. “Soup?”
Since I’d promised Adam I’d stay inside, I was stuck. “New diet.”
Kirby giggled. “Adam, huh?”
I shrugged.
“What did I miss?” Evelyn asked.
“She claims he’s nothing special, but one date and she’s on a diet,” Kirby told her.
“How come you didn’t tell me?” Evelyn asked.
I stuck to the storyline. “Old friend. Just found out he worked in DC.”
Kirby nodded toward the elevator. “Sure. That’s why she looks like she didn’t get much sleep last night. Let’s go.”
The two marched off with Kirby mumbling in hushed tones to Evelyn—no doubt regurgitating everything she’d learned from me about Adam, and probably making up additional details. The girl was a one-person gossip machine.
Turning back to my monitor, I realized this was probably good. Having Kirby spread the word about my new “boyfriend” would help Adam’s cover if we were being watched by the Ghost.
I closed my eyes and transported myself back to our nighttime walk to the Washington Monument. It had been a quintessential date moment—an arm-in-arm romantic stroll to see a romantic sight after a romantic dinner together. Romantic times three: a Hallmark moment.
I opened my eyes and shook my head to rid myself of the thoughts. The romance was all fake. It was a mirage intended to confuse.
Adam was playing a part, doing a job, carrying out a responsibility, putting up with me.
Opening my drawer, I pulled the soup can out of my purse and headed off to the microwave in the coffee room with my bowl and spoon.
Kirby had gotten the motivation wrong, but she was right that I was doing this for Adam.
As the seconds ticked off the microwave, I thought back to the image of Adam naked in the shower. How bad would it be if the romance were real instead of fake? I could have joined him in the shower and soaped up his back before he turned around and returned the favor—soaping all of me with his strong hands. Just the thought hardened my nipples.
My mind raced a mile a minute. Would he bend me over and take me in the shower? A shiver ran through me. That would be a new experience. To call my bedroom exploits plain vanilla was being too kind. The romance novels I kept in the back of my dresser drawer had descriptions of dozens of things I’d never done or had done to me.
Shower sex would be a good way to start expanding my horizons. I’d heard Yolanda and Bogdan in the shower before, and the noises they made were off-the-charts naughty compared to what I was used to.
Or, would Adam lift me up, carry me out to the bed, and have sex with me while I looked into those luscious eyes and screamed his name? Maybe he would be the one groaning my name. Guys sometimes did that, didn’t they?
I was getting way ahead of myself. We’d fake kissed, and I was imagining he wanted to have sex with me? I wasn’t homely or anything, and I had all the right parts, so why wouldn’t he want to?
Now I was making no sense at all.
The brief time we’d spent together had already scrambled my brain.
The microwave’s ding killed my diversion from reality.
The hot bowl threatened to burn my fingers as I retrieved it. A pair of paper napkins allowed me to carry my steaming liquid lunch back to my desk without dropping it. Next time, I wouldn’t set the timer for as long.
Blowing on the first spoonful, I realized the soup wasn’t the only thing that had heated up in the coffee room. The thought of a more-than-professional relationship with Adam had warmed up my insides as well. The evidence tingled between my legs and made me smile, if only to myself.
