Disclaimer: All recognizable The Bold Type characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners including, but not limited to Freeform. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this fan fiction story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No financial gain is associated with the publishing of this story. No copyright infringement is intended.
Author's note: Another story that got mislabeled on my hard drive and hadn't seen the light of day. Enjoy! -dkc
Undone
"Dammit!" I said aloud, trying not to pull the zipper any harder despite my frustration.
Just as the curse left my mouth the door to the fashion closet opened.
"Oh, Jane!" I was actually relieved to see the writer. "I am glad it is you."
"I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were in here," she was embarrassed by my state of undress.
"No, no. I actually could use your help."
I turned around without thinking and found the brunette beginning to blush. What did I expect? I was standing in only my bra and skirt right in front of her. I felt my own chest warming when I noticed the way she glanced down at it. Her eyes slowly met mine again. I'm sure a slight smirk had appeared on my face without my permission.
"Do you remember when I ran into you, Sutton and Kat at that pop-up store?" I asked.
"You walked into the dressing room while I had a shirt stuck on my head!" she looked down, maybe to hide her embarrassment.
"Exactly."
"Exactly?" she echoed.
"This will make us even. I need your help."
I turned around and pointed to the zipper of my skirt where it was clearly stuck.
"It seems the zipper is really stuck."
"Oh," she said as she stepped toward me.
I felt a slight tug and then a hitch in her breath. It must have become obvious to her that the zipper had pulled in the fabric of my underwear. She continued to tug gently until she reformulated a plan.
"I…Umm…" she stammered.
"Jane, I trust you. Do whatever you need," I encouraged her.
It was then that I realized what she was trying to tell me. Her hand touched the skin very low on my back. And then I felt the back of her hand against me as it slipped between my body and the material that had become stuck in the zipper.
"Oh." I couldn't prevent the word from slipping past my lips or the swift intake of air. She was trying to ask for permission to touch me. And god, that touch.
She said nothing as she worked. Her hand slipped further down and my entire body seemed to ignite. This was a terrible, terrible idea.
"Got it!" she announced in a celebratory fashion. I felt the zipper reach the bottom, her fingers sitting against the crack of my cheeks.
I couldn't speak.
"God," I heard the muttered word that wasn't meant for my ears.
Jane had obviously now had a better view of my delicate, lace panties that weren't actually providing solid coverage. I knew how sheer they were and how much of a view she was getting. As much as I didn't want her hands to drop from my body, I knew I had to end the encounter immediately and delicately.
"Thank you, Jane. We are now even," I said, turning toward her before realizing it made things worse. My reddened neck was betraying me. I turned back to the rack of clothing I had intended to grab an outfit from for the Women in Work photoshoot.
Jane was silent.
"Jane?" I asked.
"Sorry, I'll go. You're welcome, Jacqueline. Anytime."
She unlocked the door and disappeared through it. I let out a shuddering breath. When I glanced down, I saw how erect my nipples were. She had seen them.
Oh god, I groaned inwardly. And here I thought Jane was the safest of my staff to enlist in the task of fixing my zipper. How stupid could I be?
…
"Let's go one by one. Why don't we start with you, Jane?" I said to the table and glanced to my right at the brunette.
"The vertical is currently focusing on five things to avoid with coworkers," she said, looking away from me and quickly to her notes. "Entanglements, we are calling it. Sex, money, politics, living arrangements, exes. Our first installment is with sex and relationships. I asked Sage to tackle the issue of flirting, lusting and—"
"Orgasming," Sage added, helpfully.
"…in the workplace."
There was a slight blush on Jane's cheeks and I had to actively keep my thoughts from seeking out the reason because I knew it wasn't due to any prudishness on her part.
"And will we, umm, have an article for your vertical as well, Sage?" I was trying to get my mind back on track.
"Absolutely. I am answering the question why some women choose to always wear fancy lingerie and why some think of it as only for special occasions," she answered. My mind flashed back to the underwear I had on in the fashion closet. Jane wouldn't have told a soul.
"What about the women who would rather never wear the stuff?" Kat piped up.
"She does make a good point, Sage. The two categories are not all-inclusive. Not all women feel inclined to wear lingerie."
"But among heterosexual women?" Alex added.
"That isn't fair. Plenty of queer women love lingerie," Kat pointed out.
"Let's take a poll," Sage said. "How many of the women at this table are anti-lingerie?"
Kat's hand went up.
"And how many wear it for special occasions?" Sage asked, putting her own hand in the air. Jane hesitantly put her hand up.
"Surely the rest of the women in this room are not always in lingerie!" Kat blurted out and looked directly at me. "Lauren? Jacqueline? Hey, Sutt," Kat grabbed Sutton as she was walking by, "lingerie: special occasions or every day?"
"Every day, except when working out, why?" Sutton responded truthfully though with confusion. Kat pushed her back out of the room.
"The premise of the question is flawed. What about women who choose not to wear underwear at all?" Lauren spoke up.
This had quickly spun out of control.
"What about you, Jacqueline?" Kat looked at me without the slightest bit of concern that she was asking her boss an inappropriate question. I noted out the corner of my eye that Jane was shooting daggers at Kat.
"Always," I said quickly and attempted to move the conversation along, "now Alex, what can I expect this week?"
Sage was clearly baffled about what to do with her article. I would pull her aside after the meeting. We had to move on. I could feel my own heart racing and Jane's face was that of a woman furious at her friend. It couldn't have anything to do with the lacy panties she had seen the day before or my erect nipples in my matching lace bra. Could it?
"The podcast will be focusing on…"
I was hardly listening to Alex and I couldn't look at Jane. As soon as he was done talking it was time to put an end to the disastrous meeting.
…
"Jacqueline? Do you have a sec?" Kat asked from my open door.
"Come on in, Kat. What's up?" I waved her in, but she only took a few steps in.
"I wanted to apologize for putting you on the spot during the morning meeting. It didn't occur to me that I should leave you out of such conversations."
This was interesting. Someone had brought the topic up with her and I knew exactly who that might be.
"No harm done. I wouldn't have answered if it were out of bounds in that context. Don't waste another moment worrying about it," I said.
"Thank you."
She turned to exit and I had to stop myself from asking her if a certain writer had anything to do with her apology. I knew the answer.
I sat back down at my desk to ponder what to say to said writer. With the exception of during the meeting, she had been avoiding me. We would have to address this at some point. There was no denying that we had shared a moment. Pretending we hadn't would not make it disappear.
…
"What are you still doing here?" I stopped in Jane's doorway as she looked up from her screen. "I was shutting lights of as I went. I wasn't expecting you to be in here."
"I'm looking over the article Sage wrote for the vertical to get it online first thing in the morning. It's odd editing her work. Why are you still here?"
"May I?" I nodded toward the chair and she smiled as way of my answer. "The boys aren't home tonight. I might as well get ahead on email while the time permits."
"How are your boys?" she asked.
"Older by the day. Conner actually asked about you the other day. He said we never have people over for dinner that are cool. He said the last time we did it was you when you stayed to join us."
She chuckled. "One, I am not cool. Two, if only he knew I had yelled at his mother that day."
"I am never telling my sons that I let a member of my staff yell at me. I'll lose all ability to discipline them," I smiled at the memory. Sitting on the couch with Jane that night was something I will never forget. The look on her face now tells me she hasn't forgotten, either. "I should let you get back to work. Don't stay too late."
I stood and started toward the door.
"Jacqueline?" she stopped me and when I turned around, she was on her feet.
"Yes?"
"I want you to know that I didn't say a word to Kat about what happened in the fashion closet. The, uh, lingerie discussion was simply a coincidence."
"I know, Jane. Kat came and apologized to me this afternoon. I assume you had something to do with that?"
She nodded. As she came around the desk, she seemed torn as to whether to sit or stand. After hesitating, she leaned against the back of the chair I had occupied.
"I told her it was inappropriate to ask the editor-in-chief if she wore lingerie."
I set my bag down, leaning it against the door.
"And what of seeing the editor-in-chief's lingerie?" I asked.
Jane's cheeks went red and she was at a loss for words.
"Relax. I am joking. You did nothing wrong. Me, on the other hand…"
I found myself gravitating toward her despite my words.
"Speaking of hands, I shouldn't have put mine—"
"I trust you, Jane. I told you as much."
"To help you release your zipper, yes. But I shouldn't have looked."
"If you recall, I reacted inappropriately," I felt overheated and the conversation felt dangerous. "You merely looked at what was before you."
"Are you ready for a confession?" she stood erect and yet looked at the floor. "I can't guarantee I wouldn't do it again. If the opportunity presented itself."
I felt warmth traveling decidedly south.
"Jane…" I sighed in frustration.
"I know. I'm sorry. I chided Kat for being unprofessional and yet I ogled the boss."
"Is that what we are calling it?" I couldn't help but smirk.
"Shut up."
I stepped closer and reached for her hand. It was intended to lessen her embarrassment but the second we touched there was electricity.
"Now who is unprofessional?" I hummed.
"You simply needed help with your zipper."
"That is far from the conundrum of the moment," I said as I looked up at her. "I should go. This is—"
"I know. I hope it won't be the last time we talk about it, but I also understand if it is," Jane released my hand.
I took a step back, watching her intently. Her hazel eyes were very dark in the lighting of her office.
"We shall see. Goodnight, Jane."
"Goodnight, Jacqueline."
I picked up my bag and made my way to the elevators.
When I stepped into the harsh light of the elevator, I took a deep breath. My pulse was racing. My hands were trembling. The door began to close and was stopped by a firm, yet small, hand. Stepping into view, Jane had an intense look on her face. She was determined. I furrowed my brow in confusion as she stepped in. Then it all made sense.
"Jacqueline," her voice was low.
I dropped my bag as she stepped toward me. Before I knew it, she was in my arms and her mouth was on mine. My brain screamed at me to stop, but there was no possibility of that happening. Kissing Jane was everything that every other kiss in my life hadn't been. The desire I felt from her was unmatched.
"God…" she hummed against my lips when we parted. "I can't believe I just did that."
"Honestly, neither can I."
She looked up at me with concern in her eyes.
"I am very glad you did," I offered my own confession.
Jane's smile was radiant.
"The doors are about to open on the ground floor," I warned her and she stepped back. "After they do, hit the button for Scarlet and I will ride back up with you."
"Okay?" Jane wasn't feeling the ground beneath her, either. She hit the button all the same.
Before she could turn back to look at me, I grabbed her hand and spun her before pushing her up against the elevator wall. Where my body was hard against hers, my kiss was gentle. I took it slowly and explored her mouth with my tongue. Her hands bunched the material of my coat. Eventually we had to part.
"Jesus."
"Exactly," I nearly moaned.
The doors opened to the magazine's floor. Jane stared at me.
"As desperately as I want to ask you to come home with me, I don't think that wise tonight. That would be our bodies, or at least mine talking rather than reason," I admitted to her.
The very prospect of me ever asking to take her home had rendered Jane mute.
"We will see what tomorrow brings," I said and she nodded. "Goodnight."
I pressed a soft, short kiss to her lips and stepped back.
She stepped out of the elevator and said goodnight. The last I saw of her as the doors closed, she had her fingers pressed to her lips.
…
The boys had been impossible to get to bed. I never imagined it would become more difficult as they became teenagers. When they were small, I knew eventually exhaustion would put an end to the silliness or fighting. Now, there wasn't much that would convince them to go to bed.
As I entered my bedroom, I looked for my silk robe and made my way to the en suite where I stood under the hot water of the rainfall showerhead. Often at the end of a long day, this was when I let my mind take a break. However, tonight it seemed to be replaying one particular moment from the day on a loop. I kept seeing Jane's hand stopping the elevator and the look on her face when she met my eyes. Lust looked good on her. I allowed my hands to wander over my skin, noting the subtle responses. When my fingers traced erect nipples, I remembered Jane gazing at them through the revealing bra I'd warn that day in the fashion closet. The thought of her looking at me with such desire caused a slickness to develop that had nothing to do with the shower.
"Oh, god," I moaned as I allowed my hand to slip between my legs and trace a path.
I knew that I was on a razor's edge. Both in that moment, fully aroused without much effort, and in what I had allowed to happen with Jane. At least in my shower I could bring myself to climax without putting my job and ethics in jeopardy. And climax I did. By the time I stepped out and began toweling dry my hair, my legs were wobbly.
…
"Good morning," I said to the staff in the bullpen as I made my way through to my office, coffee precariously perched on my iPad as I walked.
Various voices greeted me and Andrew stood quickly to take my coat and bad while I sat at my desk.
"Andrew, could you get me Oliver?" I asked.
He disappeared out the door and before long the fashion director was standing in my doorway.
"What can I do for you?" he asked.
"Are you available to get a drink after work this evening?" I smiled at my long-time friend.
"I am not tonight, but I am free tomorrow night. Childcare and all. Would that work for you?" he was clearly intrigued.
"Yes, tomorrow will do. Thanks, Oliver."
"My pleasure, Jax. Can I ask if everything is alright with you?" he raised a well-groomed eyebrow at me. He knew me too well.
"It is. A conversation best had outside the office, however."
He nodded in understanding and walked away.
I sat looking out into the bullpen and for the first time since it had happened, I was glad that Jane's desk was no longer out amongst the other writers. Seeing her every time I looked out at my staff would be nothing but a distraction now. It was a distraction when she was out there. Now it would be much worse if the mere thought of Jane was distracting. But I couldn't keep myself from thinking about kissing her and how it had lit my entire body on fire. Was it possible that I had been married for twenty years and never once had a kiss like that? It must be. I don't recall ever being kissed by Ian that way.
Focus, Jacqueline, I chided myself, shaking my head and taking a steadying breath. It was going to be a very long day.
…
"Alright, let's see if we can all get on the same page," I wheeled my chair backward and crossed my legs. "Sage, my understanding was that you were contributing to the Failing Feminist vertical on the issue of lust in the workplace. Separately, you were going to be writing about the choice to wear lingerie. Am I correct?"
My discomfort at discussing either topic was well-hidden by my confusion about how Sage had ended up roped into editing a piece for the series.
"Jacqueline, if I may?" Jane's voice revealed that she was also uncomfortable, if not also somewhat embarrassed by the confusion.
"Please, enlighten me."
When I glanced at Jane, she quickly looked away.
"Because I asked Sage to contribute to this series and I edited her piece, I thought that I would ask Sage to edit the piece I am writing for the series."
"Did I somehow miss when I stopped being the editor-in-chief around here?" I had inadvertently raised my voice and made both women squirm in their seats. I calmed myself before continuing. "Which piece are you writing? The other options are politics, living arrangements, money and exes, correct?"
"Yes, in addition to the piece we published online from Sage about flirting, lusting and…" Jane stalled out on the final item. I would have found it endearing if I wasn't fighting like hell against the guilt of getting off in my shower thinking about my employee.
"Orgasming," Sage not-so-helpfully added.
"And which piece will you be writing?" I looked to Jane again and found her tapping her pen anxiously.
"Exes. How relationships with co-workers fall apart, creating the awkwardness of exes in the workplace."
"Oh," I was taken aback. "I assumed by exes you meant not dating your co-workers' exes. I now follow. Okay, now back to why Sage is editing the piece? Can Sage take a look and then bring it to me for final sign off? Can we agree to that?"
Jane nodded her agreement.
"Does anyone else want to challenge the fact that I am the editor-in-chief or can I call an end to this headache-inducing meeting?" When nobody dared say a word to this, I stood. "Good. Jane, can I see you in my office, please?"
I began making my way to my office, Andrew following me every step of the way, rattling off the items on my calendar as well as phone messages. When I reached my office door, I held up my hand and he stopped, retreating to his desk. It took Jane far longer to get to my office than it should have. However, had I been in her shoes, I might be a little slow to face my frustrated editor, too.
"Come in and close the door," I stood in front of my desk and gestured for her to sit in the seat in front of me.
For as long as I had known Jane Sloan, I had known the right moments to be gentle with her and when to be firm, figuratively speaking. This was the first time I had no idea which approach to take.
"Jacqueline—"
"Stop. Let me talk. You and Sage both have verticals. You each have plenty to do. Let's try to not get these tasks so tangled again, fair?" I knew my hands were white-knuckling the edge of my desk when she finally looked at me. She started at my shoes. By the time she made it to my eyes, I had forgotten that I was professionally frustrated with her because I was so damn sexually frustrated. This was a problem. She nodded her acknowledgement of the agreement all the same. "Let's turn to the real problem. Did you not want me editing your writing on the topic of exes in the workplace for any particular reason?"
"No, I mean, not really?" she blushed furiously and dropped eye contact.
"You and I need to have this out, don't we?" I squatted down so that I could be at eye level with her. She seemed surprised to see me there.
"Have it out?" Jane's voice was lower and I knew immediately that I had to stop this craziness.
Standing up, I moved around behind my desk and took a long look at the New York skyline. When I turned to look at Jane, she knew where my mind had gone.
"I knew it was a terrible idea, Jacqueline. Not the editing arrangement. But the editing arrangement blowing up in my face was further reason it has always been a terrible idea. So, tell me what I can do to make this easier for you?" she was magnanimous in a way I didn't deserve. I was the person of authority here. I was her superior. I had more life experience. Leave it to Jane Sloan to recognize that it was hard for me to navigate this choppy sea of uncertainty.
"You deserve better from your editor, Jane. I'm sorry that what happened with you and I made you feel you couldn't continue to leave it all with me. Please don't think you did anything wrong. This does not fall on your shoulders."
"Jacqueline, I followed you to that elevator." She needn't remind me.
"Still, as your boss, I had a responsibility and obligation to you. It was me that asked more of you than I should have in that fashion closet."
She looked down and I knew neither of us needed reminded of what happened in that room, either.
I turned to look out in the bullpen and saw Oliver standing in the doorway of his office looking toward mine. It was a bad idea to want to go to him with this. It was, after all, putting him in a terrible position as someone with a place of importance around here. Jane was really on to something with the direction of the vertical this week.
"Get back to work, Jane. You've got an article to write. And whichever way you feel most comfortable having it edited will be acceptable. You do great work. I doubt Sage will find any flaws," I nodded at her and she took my direction.
Once on her feet, she smoothed out her trousers and moved toward the door. I sensed her hesitation when her hand landed on the door pull, but quite wisely, she didn't turn back. I didn't watch her walk through the bullpen. I knew if I had, Oliver and anyone else watching would see the disappointment on my face. Oliver, of anyone, would see that under that disappointment was a hint of regret.
…
I was lounging in my living room with my iPad, listening to the boys play a video game that required a great deal of tire-squealing noise, when the notification came through. Both boys groaned, James rolling his eyes. Since Ian moved out, I had been spending far more time with my boys, but sometimes that meant while doing work. They made sure to let me know I worked too much as if that were news to me.
The Safford Publishing email address on my screen was none other than Jane Sloan's.
"Interesting," I hummed, slipping on my reading glasses. It read:
Sage hasn't glanced at it. Notes? – Jane
After we discussed the matter of who was editing Jane's article, I had no idea if I would see her piece before the deadline tomorrow. What was I even certain about anymore when it came to Jane Sloan? I pulled my feet up underneath me and opened the document.
We have all been there. You are standing in the supermarket and see your ex for the first time since a messy split. Flooded by memories and emotions, good and bad. Maybe its anger because they called it quits, refusing to fight for what you believed might be a great relationship, or anger because they treated you poorly. Maybe it's grief. Maybe you see them and you feel that hole in your heart that had been slowly healing rip right open again. Maybe it's desire because they are still everything you once were drawn to.
Imagine cowering behind a toilet paper display to avoid being seen. The awkwardness of being seen cowering by shoppers you may or may not see again is far less than the potential awkwardness of having to exchange pleasantries with your ex.
She had always been great at imagery. The writing was decent. I read on:
Now imagine you are at work, sitting in the breakroom, riding the escalator or getting something in the supply closet and you run into your ex. There is never a good toilet paper display when you need one. Where do you put all that anger, grief or, just maybe, desire in the workplace?
I could not help but read into what she was saying. Was she trying to talk herself out of something? Given our earlier conversation, I thought I had been pretty clear about my obligations to her as my employee. If not in my recent actions, at least I thought I'd said the right words. I continued reading her piece, removing my glasses when I was done. I pinched the bridge of my nose and leaned back into the throw pillows.
"Are you okay, mom?" Connor looking over at me and asked.
"Yes, sweet boy," I answered, reaching for him so I could ruffle his hair.
The piece had me a bit upside down. Each of Jane's points were well-formulated. The imagery was perfect for the tone of the series. It was ready to be printed.
"I need to make a quick phone call," I said to my already distracted children.
Moving into the study, I took my phone off the hub and scrolled through my contacts until I reached the J's. Jane Sloan stared back at me. I hit the call button and took a deep breath. It rang through to voicemail where I heard Jane's voice instructing me to leave a message.
"Hi Jane, it's Jacqueline. The piece is great. I don't have any notes. You're welcome to show it to Sage before tomorrow's deadline. Perhaps she'll notice something I didn't or…can't. Do you have time tomorrow to sit down for coffee? Let me know. I have my schedule in front of me and it looks like I can move things around if you do. I think…well…I would like to talk. Have a good night."
I clicked the red button and placed the phone on the desk. It's one thing to want to talk. It's another thing entirely to know what the hell to say.
…
I was still sitting in my robe after my morning shower when I heard the text notification come through.
Sutton insisted on dragging me out of the house last night and my phone ended up going home with Kat. I am sorry I missed your call. I do have time today. Whatever works best for you. See you at the office?
I read her message a few times and found an odd amount of relief in knowing she wasn't purposely ignoring me all night. I never expected my other employees to get back to me after hours in non-emergency situations. Yet I expected to hear from Jane. Why was Jane so different in my eyes? It wasn't a simple matter of chemistry.
Looking at myself in the mirror for a moment, I considered what exactly would be the most appropriate move and then it hit me that nothing I had done with Jane in years had been the appropriate thing. I had always felt differently about her. I had always treated her differently.
10? I texted her back and she responded immediately with a thumbs-up emoji.
Stepping away from my mirror, I dropped my robe and allowed myself a quick glance to inventory all the changes my body had undergone in recent years. Time nor sanity would permit more than a few moments. I moved toward my closet and began picking out my attire. It was a blatant lie to tell myself I hadn't been thinking about Jane's eyes alone when choosing my clothing. She might have told herself a similar lie.
…
Waving in the writer, I gestured for her to wait. I was on a phone call with Connor's school. As I hung up, I must have looked frayed.
"Everything okay?" she looked on with concern.
"It would seem my children are not angels."
I finally took in her appearance. My mouth went dry when I noted the hem length of her skirt. Despite being short of stature, Jane was all legs. They shined like legs do after a fresh shave and moisturization. When my eyes finally met Jane's, I had lost track of what I was saying. She thankfully didn't smirk. My head swam anyway.
"Umm…I need to head across town to have a word with my youngest son," I shook the thought of her legs from my mind as best I could. "Would you be interested in grabbing a cup of coffee downstairs and riding with me? Do you have enough time?"
She was clearly surprised that I would invite her to go with me. After a moment, her face lit up. I wasn't entirely sure she had realized I wasn't baling on her up until that point.
"I am waiting for Sage's notes. Until then, I have nothing pressing to do. Whatever time you need," she responded.
I stood from my desk and hollered for Andrew who appeared quickly, annoyed by Jane's presence inside my office door.
"I have to go to Connor's school for a few minutes. Could you forward me any phone messages? And if the school should call again, please tell them I am on my way?"
He nodded and left, glaring at Jane.
"I never know if that is a friendly sibling-like rivalry thing or if he truly doesn't like you," I remarked.
"You and me both."
"Let's go," I grabbed my purse and blazer and allowed Jane to hold the door for me. She followed me to the elevator, Andrew's eyes on us the entire way. We weren't alone in the elevator which was likely for the best. The last time we had been alone in an elevator, we had behaved foolishly.
"Jacqueline?" Jane was looking at me.
I had been lost in the thought of us in alone in the elevator that night and hadn't realized we were on the ground floor and it was time to step out. Following the brunette, I was pleased the barista knew my coffee order because I wasn't sure I could find words.
"Are you sure you don't mind me riding along?" Jane asked as we made our way outside.
"Of course not," I knew that my zoning out had worried her. "I wouldn't have asked you along otherwise."
Ray pulled up to the curb and I stepped in, Jane walking around to the opposite side of the town car to do the same.
"Where to, Ms. Carlyle?" he asked from the front seat. Jane looked at me, raising an eyebrow at the 'Ms. Carlyle' treatment from the driver. Ray had heard from my children about Ian's departure and the driver had ceased saying 'Mrs.' even if it were technically, legally, the correct salutation.
"Connor's school, unfortunately. Would you mind putting the privacy screen up until we arrive, Ray? Thank you."
"Not a problem," he smiled, raised the screen and pulled into midtown traffic.
"Ms.?" Jane boldly said, sipping her coffee as she did so. She looked at me with curiosity.
"Have I ever mentioned that my children are terrible at keeping their mouths shut?" I chuckled. "I am sure they have informed everyone they know of the sordid details of my divorce."
"I'm sorry, Jacqueline. That can't be easy. Though, for what it is worth, it has stayed out of the tabloids. And you haven't slowed down at the office."
I turned my body toward her and crossed my legs. Her eyes followed the movement.
"Aside from being caught undressed in the fashion closet and making out with my employee in the elevator after hours?" I raised a teasing eyebrow at her and, thankfully, she laughed.
"There is that."
She adjusted her skirt, perhaps thinking better of the length now that she had to sit in the seat next to me. When she cleared her throat, I realized I had lost myself observing every inch of her legs. I knew I was turning red.
"Jacq…" her voice was asking the question—she wanted me to look at her. She wanted us to have a conversation about this.
"Nobody has made me come undone like you, Jane," I couldn't believe I was admitting this to her. The way those hazel eyes looked at me and the way my body reacted to her only supported my admission.
"I know what a predicament I have put you in, Jacqueline. The night I followed you to the elevator, I was selfish. As much as I might have in the past, in that moment I didn't stop to think about your family or your job title. I acted. I am not an impulsive person. I thrive on knowing the details, the possibilities. All I knew in that moment was that I wanted to kiss you. It's all I've known in a lot of moments since. But I know that isn't fair of me."
"Jane…" I reached for her knee. Her eyes fluttered closed briefly at the touch to her skin. When I went to pull my hand back, hers was over it quickly, holding my hand to her skin. She glanced over at me and I knew she could see how arousing I found the action. Pushing my hand further up her thigh, I eventually ran into the hem of her skirt. We stared at one another. I tried to speak, but nothing but a strangled noise came from the back of my throat.
"Ms. Carlyle, we are here," came Ray's voice as the privacy screen cracked just enough for him to be heard. Jane released my hand and while I had no desire to stop touching her, I retracted it.
"I won't be more than a few minutes."
She had wide eyes, blown pupils and a wild look on her face when she nodded at me. I stepped out of the car and took several deep breaths before walking into the school. It was time to wear a different hat—that of mom.
…
When I returned to the curb, the car was there, but Jane was not. I looked at Ray who nodded toward a picnic table on the school grounds. There Jane sat, phone in hand as she sent a flurry of texts. I wondered who she was texting. Perhaps by now Kat knew exactly what happened in the fashion closet and maybe even what happened in the elevator. I slowly walked toward Jane who spotted me and stood quickly.
"Is he okay?" she asked me when I reached her.
"He is. He has decided that cursing around his classmates makes him funny and impenetrable." I sat down on the bench and she joined me. "Divorce is hard on kids."
"I imagine it is," she nodded. "Having a parent suddenly not there every moment is traumatic."
I hadn't even thought about Jane's childhood. I was instantly sad for her and apologetic.
"Jane—" I started, but she cut me off.
"No, it's fine," she placed a hand over mine. "Really."
We sat like that for what felt like a very long time, but was more likely less than a minute.
"Ready to go back to the office?" she asked me, rubbing her thumb over the back of my hand.
Standing, I followed her toward the car and climbed in, this time scooting my way across the seat so she could get in on the same side and not have to contend with her skirt. Ray put up the privacy screen after asking if he was to take us back to the office. A simple nod was all he needed to get them on their way.
"Did your dad ever—? After your mom died?" I asked. It was none of my business, but she didn't hesitate to shake her head in response. "Would it have been difficult for you if he had dated or found someone?"
"Being divorced and being widowed are very different, I would imagine," she shrugged. "Either way you are asking kids to let someone else into their lives when a pretty big hole still exists."
This woman was wise beyond her years. I nodded.
"Have you—?" she asked the rest of the question with interesting body language—jealousy, as best I could tell.
"No, I haven't. But their dad has. Technically, he had before we separated, the boys don't know that. I guess I have worried about how they would handle someone new in my life. It's their lives, too."
Jane's hand took mine in the most tender gesture. She linked our fingers together and then looked up at me with wonder.
"Jane…" I breathed. I found my body leaning toward her and as wrong as it was, there was nothing I wanted more than to pull her into my lap. I was content with a long, languid kiss. Her hand cradled my jaw as her tongue slipped past my lips. It would have been terribly easy to lose all control. For me, that is. She was kissing me like a woman who might be in control of her impulses for once—she was giving me precisely what I was asking her to give me. "…mmm."
"Before we go back to the office, I want to say something," she hummed against my lips, pulling back to be able to look me in the eye. "I don't know what, if anything, you want from what is going on between us. I have listened to what you have said to me, but I know you feel obligated here, Jacq. I know you are trying to do right by me. I stand by what I wrote in my article. However, you and I are not just any workplace romance. What I said in the article had absolutely nothing to do with you and I. As far as I am concerned, working for you is always going to be a personal challenge because I feel strongly about you. I always have. We obviously haven't been able to shut whatever this is down. So going forward, if you should ever decide that you want to try to have something, as unlikely as I realize that may be, I would never allow you to feel awkward at Scarlet. I would bow out gracefully and go somewhere else."
I felt tears stinging my eyes and I couldn't find words. Leaning my forehead against hers, I knew that I needed time to consider what she was offering.
"Here we are," Ray's voice said. This time neither of us pulled apart.
"Give me some time to sit with this?" I whispered my plea. She nodded graciously.
I fixed my hair and makeup as best I could, utilizing the compact in my purse. Jane didn't move until I reached over her and pulled on the door handle and signaled for Ray to help her step out. I made my way around the car.
"Thank you, Ray," I smiled at him as I passed. If he saw anything, he would never speak a word of it. He could teach my boys a thing or two about discretion.
We were in an elevator full of people, both of us lost in our heads when I felt a subtle squeeze of my hand. I looked out of the corner of my eye at Jane and she was smiling. If Jane could smile and not be worried, so could I.
…
I was seated at the bar when Oliver entered. He took a seat, removed his scarf and then looked at me. The raised eyebrow was my punishment for making him wait to find out what was up.
"This feels a bit like we are conspiring to rob a bank," he waved to a bartender and gestured to the drink I had in front of me. Before long another glass of wine was before me and one in front of my dear friend.
I smiled at him and shook my head at how nervous I was.
"You did something foolish," he began, dragging it out as if I might confess. "And you may do it again."
"Oliver," I groaned. He smiled that warm, pleasant smile of his.
"Now I really am intrigued. It isn't like you make a habit of acting foolishly. You usually leave that pleasure to me. Given that you wanted to speak outside the office, I suspect the foolishness is personal rather than professional?"
"It's both."
This wiped the smile off his face and he furrowed his brow. I knew this would be his reaction, but as my oldest friend, I wanted his opinion even if it wasn't what I wanted to hear.
"I see," he drawled. "And I imagine you are now trying to decide what your professional obligation is given that you are in a position of authority and are a certain writer's direct superior?"
"Have I been that obvious?" I looked into my glass and felt as if I might cry. The thought that my behavior was obvious to others terrified me. He noticed my demeanor change and placed a hand over mine on the bar as he softened his tone.
"Of course not, but I know you, Jax. And I've watched the two of you over the course of a half dozen years. Did you want me to be your sounding board or do you want my honest opinion?" he crossed his legs.
I cringed at what I suspected he was going to say, nodding anyway.
"Your job security right now is as solid as any editor in print media which means terrible. And your feelings for her are not going to go away. If I were in your shoes, I would tread carefully, but I wouldn't stop treading altogether. Have you talked about it with her?" he still hadn't said Jane's name and I appreciated it, oddly enough. Something about him saying her name aloud would have opened the flood gates for me.
"Some," I shook my head after speaking, thinking about how little had been said between she and I before the trip to Connor's school. Certainly not enough for something that had the power to ruin careers. Running my hands through my hair, I sighed.
"I am not attempting to talk you out of it, Jax. Just be careful. Look, your divorce is going to be final, you are going to attract attention. Keep that in mind. What do the boys think?" he signaled the bartender for another glass of wine. Looking at me, the bartender accepted my hand gesture as declining another for myself. "I assume they know Ian is seeing people?"
"Yes, the boys are well aware of their father's exploits. James is aware of the prior infidelity, I think, though he won't talk about it," I hated that my first born suspected his father had been unfaithful, but the choice to tell him was not mine to make and I had left it at that. "They aren't aware of anything going on with their mother. However, they like Jane quite a lot."
As I said the writer's name, my stomach flip-flopped. It was an odd sensation. Was it because I had spoken her name or because I was saying it with the implication that if she were around the boys, they would embrace her?
"You deserve to have fun," he said into his wine glass.
At this I rolled my eyes and threw my head back laughing. It was the lightest moment I had shared with anyone in months.
…
When I arrived at the office the next morning, it was obvious that something was happening. The flurry of activity was unusual for before eight a.m. and the number of people avoiding looking at me was disconcerting. I made my way past the desk of my assistant, looking at him and using my chin to indicate I wanted a word with him in my office.
"Andrew, what is going on?" I was a little snippier than I had intended, shaking my head and gesturing for him to close the door.
"You should probably look at Page Six," he suggested.
"Oh, for god's sake, what has the Murdoch empire done today?" I reached for my laptop, opening it as I shrugged out of my jacket. Andrew stepped forward to take the item as well as my purse. "Thank you."
He continued to stand there as I clicked through to the website I tended to ignore as much as possible. Then I saw it. I grabbed a pair of reading glasses so that I could see what text accompanied the photograph.
"Andrew, I need you to get me Richard Hunter," I snapped.
"Yes, Jacqueline."
When he was out of earshot, I took my glasses off and found myself swearing aloud: "Fucking Page Six!"
I grabbed my phone and sent a quick message to James to ask him to keep an eye on Connor—they were in the same private school where despite an age difference, they saw each other in the halls and at lunch. Then I began drafting another text and stopped myself. I dialed the number instead.
"I would like to walk across the bullpen and sit down with you, but I'm afraid there are many pairs of eyes that refused to look at me when I arrived but would absolutely follow me to your office," I said into my phone. "I want you to know that I am sorry. And I am getting to the bottom of it."
The tone of Jane Sloan's voice was surprisingly neutral given that a photograph of her holding her boss's hand was on one of the busiest gossip websites in the city. Even if it was inset on a larger photograph of Ian and his catch of the day, it was still an invasion of privacy that people who aren't accustomed to being in the tabloids find jarring. Jane didn't seem to be jarred.
"I need to go, but I will touch base later. If you…well, if I can do anything for you, tell Andrew to get you in. I'll remind him that you are not the enemy."
I listened to her thank me—me—and say goodbye. Why the hell was she thanking me? If it weren't for my high profile in the publishing world and me asking her to go with me to my son's school, the photo wouldn't exist.
I looked up at the soft knock on the glass.
"Richard, come in," I sighed heavily.
"Jacqueline, what can I do for you?" he said, sitting in the chair across from my desk.
"Have you seen Page Six this morning?" I asked him pointedly.
He looked at the floor before looking up at me. He had seen Page Six. Which I knew wouldn't have been a casual browsing of the papers but something he was asked to do by a certain strawberry blonde in my fashion department.
"Would you like me to reach out to their legal department?" he offered.
"Look, I know that I am going to be caught on camera from time to time. I've accepted that. I have mostly ignored the noise surrounding Ian. This is different, Richard."
Running my fingers through my hair, I resigned myself to the fact that it was going to be one of those days when neither my hair nor my makeup remained flawless.
"Where was the photograph taken?" I could see that he was trying to work through the potential legal avenues.
"That is why I am angry!" I snapped. "It was at the boys' school. A private school. There is no public space close enough to have had this photograph taken without crossing onto the private grounds."
"Is that the only reason you are angry?" he raised an eyebrow and set his jaw. He was asking the question that I was avoiding answering for myself.
"Richard…" I leaned my head back, staring at the ceiling. This wasn't about privacy. I had accepted a lack of that years ago. It was about the boys' school, yes, but that neglected the biggest factor here—Jane Sloan.
"You know, I wasn't surprised by the photograph at all."
My head snapped back to look at him with incredulity. What was he telling me?
"Jacqueline, I have always known how you feel about her. When she was sued by the stripper? You went to bat for her. Not just as a Scarlet writer. I won't claim to understand what you are feeling right now, but I know what it feels like to want to protect a person I care deeply for. You don't have to explain yourself to me. Let me see what I can do about the photograph, though. I assume the other photograph is of little importance?" he looked at me for my reaction.
I rolled my eyes and shook my head. "I don't care about Ian's conquests, Richard. He can deal with that himself. I wish my boys didn't have to see it, but that's their father's fault. The other is on me."
"And what will you say to them about the other?" he asked sympathetically.
"I guess I need to figure that out."
He nodded and stood from his chair.
"I'll get into it," he assured me.
"Thank you, Richard," I said with true gratitude.
"Can I offer you a piece of advice?" he asked and I nodded, unsure if I could refuse when he was helping me out of the goodness of his heart and not any other sort of obligation.
"Those people out there?" he gestured to the bullpen. "They are going to read into it if you ignore or avoid her, Jacqueline. Behaving as if nothing has changed, whether it has or not, will actually keep eyes off of you. Avoidance screams guilt. You're not guilty of anything but taking care of yourself."
Nodding my understanding, I wheeled my chair back and stood. "You're right."
"And Jacq? If this is a relationship, let me help you get the appropriate paperwork from human resources. It's better to cover your ass, though I think I know Jane well enough to say that she would never turn on you. She would allow her own ruin before she would even think of it."
I approached him and hugged him.
"Thank you," I whispered.
"I'll give you a call in a few hours," he said.
I held the door for him and then followed him out. He made his way to the elevator, turning back to wink at me as he recognized where I was going. I tried not to blush.
My destination stood before me sooner than I was ready and I was suddenly doubting the decision to follow Richard Hunter's advice. I took a deep breath and knocked. Hazel eyes caught mine through the glass and waved me in.
"Jacqueline?" she appeared worried at my being in her office.
I offered the best reassurance I could in a gentle smile. She stood and rounded the desk.
"Are you okay?" I asked her and she appeared startled.
"Me?" Jane offered me a chair and turned the other so we could sit together, but at an appropriate distance.
"I shouldn't have been afraid to walk over here to check on you earlier," I looked into her eyes and hoped mine reflected how apologetic I felt. Richard was right. I had been avoiding this.
"That is okay, I understand."
She crossed her legs and placed her hands on her knee. I could tell there were nerves under the surface that she was trying to keep under wraps. This was hardly something a woman of her age would have ever had to deal with before.
"Jane…" I sighed. I really hadn't prepared myself enough before coming to see her. However, if I hadn't done it right after Richard prodded me, I wouldn't have done it at all. I would have talked myself out of it. "I asked Richard Hunter to find out where the photograph came from."
"Oh." Her response was flat.
"I'm not ashamed of the photograph," the words seemed to instantly relax her. "But if someone is able to take photographs on the grounds of the boys' school, that has to be addressed."
"And the other photograph?" she fidgeted, interlacing her fingers.
"That's not my problem," I shook my head.
"Are you okay?" she asked me, gripping her knee tighter to avoid reaching out to touch me.
"With that photograph? What Ian does is his business. He will have to explain it to our boys."
She nodded. Her hazel eyes were looking for something in mine and I wasn't entirely sure what that might be. Then it dawned on me.
"I haven't said anything to the boys," I explained. "I didn't know about the photo until I arrived at the office. I did ask James to keep an eye on Connor in the event kids at school had seen it. He's a touch volatile right now. I need to talk to them both."
She seemed to be chewing on the inside of her cheek.
"What?" I pressed her.
"What will you be telling the boys?" she asked with such an endearing apprehension.
What a good question! I leaned back in my chair and looked out the window for a moment. My boys were bright, understanding kids. But they were young. And they were still adjusting to their father's absence.
"I know what I'd like to be telling them, but I'm afraid that's a conversation you and I haven't had yet," I hummed. I noticed the anxiety on Jane's face and reached out to add my hand to those on her knee. "It's nothing bad, honey."
"Oh." There was a flush developing on Jane's face and it tipped me off to how responsive she was to something as simple as my calling her 'honey.'
I removed my hand from her knee and found myself again running my fingers through my hair. I exhaled; the sound was harsh to my ears. What I wanted more than anything was to be somewhere else with Jane so we could hash this out and not have an entire bullpen watching us.
"I need to be home with the boys tonight," I began, looking at her and finding her eyes having never left me. "Are you free tomorrow night?"
She smiled broadly. It was the first time since arriving at the office that I felt as light as I had when she kissed me in that damned elevator.
"I am," she replied.
Standing from the chair, I placed a hand on her shoulder and smiled back at her. It was hard not to when she looked at me with those wide eyes.
"Jacq?" she caught my hand and then quickly released it, remembering that she couldn't see the folks in the bullpen but they could see us. "Thanks for not coming in here to tell me that we had gone too far and that it's too much. I arrived at the office expecting that you would pull away. You have no idea how glad I am that you haven't."
The subtle pink that graced her cheeks was enough to make my stomach flutter.
"It never even crossed my mind," I told her. The truth was that I was afraid she would be scared off by the photograph being out in the world or the fact that I would have to discuss it—her—with my sons. Jane Sloan had grown up far too quickly when her mother got sick and I often had to remind myself that she was more mature than her peers, a maturity that I could lean on and trust. "I have to get to a meeting."
"Bye," she beamed.
…
By the end of the day, I had learned that a person on staff at the school had not only taken the photograph, but had sold it to Page Six. Richard said that the school was now investigating whether it was the only time this had happened—he suspected not. When I arrived to pick up the boys, I received multiple apologies and many suspicious looks from fellow parents. The ride home was eerily silent.
When the boys disappeared to their room to do homework, I was able to get some work done as well. I sent off edits, emails and authorizations before retreating to the kitchen to cook. Cooking was always a kind of catharsis for me. Making a meal for my children was exactly what I needed to be doing tonight.
"Is it ready?" Connor wandered in and sat at the island watching me.
"Almost. Would you and your brother set the table?" I was surprised when I didn't have to ask him a second time.
"It smells really good, Mom," James said as he joined his brother.
"It will taste really good, too," I winked at him and he smiled.
The boys had the table ready when I brought over the rice steaming basket and a dish of butter chicken. Their eyes lit up and they began piling their plates with both, talking about how long it had been since I had cooked butter chicken for them. James talked about how the cook at their school had made samosas once and they were not nearly as good as the ones I made him for his birthday. I loved listening to them rattle on about nearly anything. As they settled into their food, I knew now was the time to talk to them.
"Can we talk about what happened today?" I brought it up by asking their permission rather than forcing something uncomfortable on them.
"We know who it was, Mom, and the school is taking care of it, right?" James responded.
"My teacher said not to let people who don't know us bother me," Connor added.
"Boys, it's not acceptable that someone took my picture and sold it, but that's not what I want to talk to you about," I set my fork down, wiped my mouth on my napkin and watched them as they each dealt with the topic in their own way. Connor concentrated on his food and James picked at something on the table cloth.
"You want to talk about dad?" James asked quietly.
"No, I think he needs to talk to you himself. What your dad does is no longer my concern unless it bothers you. And if it bothers you, I will have a word with him and insist he talk to you both. Would you like me to do that?" I waited for one of them to respond and finally Connor nodded. Damn you, Ian. "What I would like to talk to you about is the woman in the photograph with me."
"Mom, Jane is cool!" Connor was enthusiastic. I didn't know how much he might understand or what others might have said to him about this.
"She is very cool," I smiled as I said this, feeling ridiculous. The the importance of what I was about to say sobered me up. "I care about her. And because the two of you matter more to me than anything or anyone in the world, I need you to know this. I need to make sure that you understand."
"You love her," James spoke the words in a way that was validating. I felt the tension in my body fall away and I knew my face was affirming what he had said. Then he asked me a question I didn't have an answer to. "Does she love you?"
"Does Dad know?" Connor piped up.
"I spoke to your dad this afternoon before coming to pick you up. He and I both accept that we will date and love other people. He knows that I care for Jane. Your dad is worried about how you will handle it," I answered as best I could without getting too much into what Ian had said.
"Does she love you?" James asked again, pointedly.
"Honey, I really don't know. She cares about me. That I know."
Pushing his plate away, I thought James was going to stand and walk away in anger, but my first born was simply trying to think of how to say what he wanted to. Connor looked to him for cues and was awaiting his brother's position on the matter.
"We want you to be happy, Mom. Does Jane make you happy?" he asked.
Jane Sloan had made me feel so many emotions in the time I had known her. Her arrival at Scarlet made me feel hope—both for the continued quality of the magazine and for her own future. The topics she chose to write about that were deeply personal to her brought out her best writing and made me feel pride—as someone who got to witness her talent and as her editor who was entrusted with her work. The way she began looking at me some time ago was exhilarating. While I was apprehensive at first, somewhere along the way I became intrigued. When Jane smiled at me, that broad grin with such honest eyes, I felt worthy in a way I hadn't for years—worthy of another's desire, their concern and, yes, their love.
"She does," I dipped my head when I felt my face warming, but it was a futile effort to hide it from wise boys. I looked James in the eyes and spoke frankly, "she makes every day a little bit lighter, my job easier and I don't want to lose that."
"Can she come over?" Connor looked at me with pleading eyes.
"Not tonight, but soon," I promised.
James looked at me and for a moment it was only the two of us having a silent conversation. When his mouth turned up and his eyes twinkled, I hardly needed the subtle nod of his head to know that he was giving me his permission. The smile on my face made my cheeks hurt.
"Who wants dessert?" I stood and soon Connor was flying toward me with a bear hug. James even joined in. The conversation couldn't have gone any better.
…
"They were really okay with it?" Jane's eyes were wide with surprise as she sat across from me on the living room couch, drink in one hand, her other reaching out to touch my thigh as she spoke.
"Connor wanted you to come over at that very moment," I smiled, finishing the scotch in my glass. "I told him that you would come over soon."
I left the words hanging in the air between us, not daring to ask if she would feel comfortable coming over to spend time with the boys and I. She knew what I was asking. It was a lot more than if she would come over for dinner. Her hand squeezed my thigh as she held me with her eyes. The look warmed my entire body. Setting my glass aside, I put a hand over hers and waited for her to say what it was that was forming in her tireless mind. Instead, she placed her glass on the coffee table and moved closer to me. Lingering eye contact created a current between us. When she touched my chin with her bent index finger and then traced along my jaw, my breath hitched. Fingers threaded through my hair before her small hand used its position for leverage and pulled me toward her. Abandoning my eyes only briefly, she did so to glance at my lips. Her mouth met mine and I let myself go. I let go of my reservations and fears. I allowed her to control the kiss. Never had I been more willing to put my body and, more importantly, my heart in the hands of another. I did this knowing she would never take more than I was able to give.
"Jacq?" she murmured against my swollen lips.
"Mmm?"
"Ever since that day in the fashion closet, I have been thinking about the two dimples just above where my hand touched you to release your zipper," she confessed, turning me on further. "I would really like to see them again."
Jane Sloan wanted me. This was her way of asking. And I found it terribly arousing. The thought of her hand on me, between my skin at that delicate lace, left me dazed. When her nose brushed mine, I looked into her dark eyes and made my decision.
"Come to the bedroom," I didn't word it as a question because it needn't be. She had made clear what she wanted and I was more than willing to give it to her. I stood and held out my hand to her, pleased when not only did she take it, she didn't let go until we reached my bedroom. For two women who thrived on the exchange of words, it surprised me that once we were in that room there was no need at all for them.
…
"Jane, did you do any sports when you were my age?" Connor asked our dinner guest, one of what was becoming an endless list of questions.
"I ran cross country," she nodded.
"What is that?" he was very interested in anything Jane wanted to say to him.
"It's running," James told him. "You don't have to ask her every question you can think of."
"He's okay," Jane smiled at James who looked at me with concern.
"How about we each ask one more question of our guest and then we can have dessert?" I winked at her from the opposite side of the table.
"Were you a runner in New York?" Connor, of course, got his question in first.
"No, I grew up in Colorado. Lots of open space to run there," Jane informed him and he was clearly now wanting to ask about Colorado which made her laugh, even without him saying anything.
"I'll show you Colorado on a map later, Con," I smirked at Jane.
"Do you want to work at Scarlet for your entire career?" James looked at her as if he were sizing her up and my heart swelled. He was being the man of the house, as outdated as that concept was. I couldn't help but be proud of him.
Jane seemed surprised by the question, but not by the way the questioner was angling.
"Hmm…" she held eye contact with him as if he were an adult. She was taking him seriously and she clearly wanted him to feel that. "I want to be a writer for the rest of my career. Right now, I have a wonderful editor in your mom and I love Scarlet. But writers like challenges and I am sure over time I will seek out other opportunities."
He seemed to be considering her answer, pleased by her attention to him. He then looked at me and nodded. I wasn't sure if he was signaling that it was my turn to ask a question or that he approved of her answer.
"Would you like coffee, wine or something stronger with your dessert, Ms. Sloan?" I looked at her with sincere appreciation for her so expertly navigating dinner with my children.
"Coffee, please."
She seemed to relax knowing that I wouldn't be asking her a serious question, at least not with the boys joining us. I walked around the table and gave her shoulder a squeeze before disappearing into the kitchen. I could hear voices from the other room, hoping they hadn't launched into more questions. Then I felt two hands wrapping around my abdomen.
"They didn't accost you with more questions?" I hummed, enjoying the scent of the young woman.
"No, in fact, they told me I should come help you and they will clear the table after their disagreement about a reference I didn't understand is settled."
I turned in her arms and looked over her shoulder to ensure it was just the two of us. Leaning down I kissed Jane. Her hands were at my hips, her tongue teasing my lips and I was rapidly losing control of the situation. If not for the boys' laughter, I very well may have allowed things to go far enough that we would have been caught by my children.
"They'll head to their room after dessert," I whispered against her lips when we parted.
"Jacqueline?" she looked into my eyes and I felt the earnestness with which she said, "your boys are really wonderful."
All any mother wants to hear is that her children are good humans and the way Jane spoke the words and the way her face lit up told me exactly this. I felt a tear trickle down my cheek, a tear she deftly flicked away with a finger.
"Thank you," I smiled. "They like you, Jane."
"And their mother?" she asked without any trepidation whatsoever.
"Always has."
Once again, she left me breathless. We got here all because of a stuck zipper and one very bold writer. We stood like that until the boys' voices pulled us apart.
-finis-