Barely long enough to be considered a one-shot. Let's call it a blurb.
Disclaimer
If every person came with an owner's manual, some would be equipped with a second volume just to contain the legal small print. Natalie discovered this when she inadvertently came into possession of a complicated man. The instructions were written in a microscopic font. And seemingly in another language. No translation included. Some assembly required. No returns or refunds.
He should have come with a disclaimer; 'Beware of hazardous complexities.' A warning label would have been nice, since she hadn't exactly planned on this extravagant human purchase in the first place. And like a child playing with an appliance in the tub, she was in dangerous waters. Which is why she had shied away from this arrangement from the beginning.
Natalie had decided early on that her immediate supervisor was not to be considered in any quest for companionship. Not only by her choice, but seemingly his. The phrase 'off limits' was coined for the man, the untouchable image cemented clear down to the roots. Her career, the one constant since tripping into adulthood, was too precious to destroy for a night's indulgence. Stephen's inability to maintain a relationship was well documented by the ever-busy rumor mill, grinding the juicy steak into splintered gristle. And the same medieval device would take hold of any indiscretions and spit out the shreds of her job. And she was by no means certain he'd be worth it.
Connor, however, was oblivious to the gossip machine, looming over it until the mechanism ground to a halt before him. Still, she persisted in remaining a friendly yet detached colleague, determined to avoid the 'slept her way to the top' stigma. Stephen had other ideas. While purposely intimidating those who sought to find fault in their escalating closeness, he simultaneously chased her until there was no more room to maneuver. He wasn't built to accept 'no,' nor did he appear to comprehend the value of caution. That she was attracted to him worked to decimate the tactics she'd long undertaken to circumvent such temptation. The gossiping cows had enough cud to chew without her adding blades of truth to the grass.
There had been a million reasons not to allow a personal facet to their association. Essentially, her initial refusal to entertain the notion came down to not wishing to interrupt a relationship that worked so well. And certainly Stephen did not send out signals of availability, what with being married and all. A divorce did little to chip away the cold exterior and the court decree hardly bequeathed the next girl a chisel. But once the ring disappeared, the chill that came with it began to defrost almost effortlessly when alone with her. He closed the gap between them with daily persistence and while she backed up with equal diligence, traitorous arms concurrently reached out. It would have been helpful to grasp a thick set of workplace romance directives while she was at it. Rule One should be to never let intimate contact occur where privacy is unlikely. Like a glass office. In broad daylight.
In truth, excuses had been slowly crumbling to dust even before that first kiss. In falsehood she protested afterwards, a finger raised to stab at his recklessness. Rule Two should be to never let him get a word in. Because the voice, in that whisper, was audible sex. And led to kiss number two. By her initiation. Now she bore equal guilt. But the consequences would be entirely uneven; he getting a reprimand, she a pink slip. Instead, fortune favored her with an empty hall and a full bed later that night.
Perhaps a third book could be designated for those rare humans that defy the first two. There were no suitable operating instructions for him and he reveled in ignoring the fine print. The language was still fuzzy and the warning label continued its blaring exclamation point verdicts. But no disclaimer would be strong enough to deter her now.