Part Eight
Harm walked into the front bathroom without saying a word. I heard the sound of cabinet and closet doors opening and closing, and then he came out with an arm full of linens.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"I'm making up the couch." He smoothed a sheet over the fake leather and started tucking it into the cushions.
"You don't have to do that." I protested.
"Oh yes I do. There is no way you are sharing a bed with him."
"Harm, you're being silly," I said though I actually thought it was sweet.
He ignored me and spread out a white blanket across the lavender sheets. "It needs a pillow," he said. Then he knocked once on the bedroom door, barged inside, grabbed a pillow off the bed and came back out with it before Victor could say a word.
I took the orange and teal striped pillow from him, wondering fleetingly where they'd found sheets to match that god-awful bedspread, and put it on the couch. I wrapped my arms around his waist and said, "Thank you."
"For what," he asked gruffly as he stood stiffly in my embrace.
"For caring and not trying to hide it." I reached up and kissed him on the chin.
"I'm tired of hiding it," he said as he finally relaxed and wrapped his arms around me.
"Me too," I mumbled into his chest. I gave him a squeeze and sat down on the white fuzzy blanket, pulling him with me.
"I could sleep here," he offered while nuzzling my neck.
"I like the sound of that," I gasped as his tongue found my ear.
"And you could go to my apartment and sleep in my bed," he murmured.
"What's fun about that?" I complained.
"You'd be more comfortable, and I like the idea of smelling you on my sheets." His low voice vibrated close to my ear, and it was all I could do not to moan.
"Your legs would hang off the end of this thing, and I smell like vegetable soup."
"It's smells good on you." His mouth was inches from mine. "Makes me hungry."
I closed my eyes, expecting his kiss, but it didn't come.
When I reopened my eyes he was studying me carefully.
"What are you doing?" I asked huskily.
"I'm practicing resisting you." His eyes were focused on my mouth and it somehow felt like he was kissing me anyway.
My breath caught in my throat, and I licked my lips as I imagined how he tasted.
His eyes flared with desire and he said a little desperately, "I better get out of here." He stood up quickly and laced his fingers with mine. "Walk me to the door."
I held onto his hand as if it was the only connection to him I had left. We were about to change partners in this crazy dance of intrigue, and deceit and I was reluctant to let him go. But there was no turning back, and I wanted this thing to be over with quickly. Our life was waiting for us somewhere on the other side of this masquerade, and I was willing to dance with the devil himself if it would help.
"Night Mac." His thumb brushed the back of my hand.
I pulled my hand away from his in an act of faith that everything would be alright and smiled at the man I loved. "Night Harm."
Tomorrow he could be Harry.
**
I was sitting at my desk bright and early Monday morning. Harm had dropped off the keys and some general instructions for opening the office when he had stopped by my apartment on Saturday morning, but then I hadn't seen him since. All of my pencils were sharpened. My fake files were alphabetized and my appointment book was open and ready to face the day. My boss, however, still hadn't made an appearance. Apparently Harry Baldridge was no more of a morning person than Harmon Rabb Jr. According to his appointment book he did have several clients coming in that day. I assumed they were set up by Catherine so we would have some traffic. It might look suspicious if I sat and did nothing but filed my nails all day.
I had chosen a 'conservative' outfit for my first day on the job. A simple winter white pleated skirt was paired with a fuchsia turtleneck. I had decided to go with a short curly red wig in honor of Frankie Mitchell. If Harm liked redheads I could be a redhead too. The skirt was too short and the turtleneck was too tight but my feet were having a holiday in a pair of flat pink ballet style slippers. The three inch heels that Webb had picked out to go with this ensemble were languishing in my closet and that was where they would stay. I had rebelliously taken time on Saturday afternoon to go shopping for shoes-flat shoes and lots of them.
People, mainly men, kept dropping by to introduce themselves. It was a very friendly building. Johnny Mortensen from the accounting office down the hall was sitting on the edge of my desk. Rodney Stiles an insurance agent was occupying one of the chairs provided for waiting clients and was trying to convince me to join them on the patio around noon for lunch. I had already agreed and had tried to shoo them out of the office, but they just sat there and kept talking. I had already learned that Kelly Lynn Sanders a secretary in office 115 was pregnant with her second child. I should watch out for Mickey Cornell because he would try to hit on me and he was a real sleaze bag. Gloria Randall ran the front office for the food bank on the other side of the building and she was a doll. I would love Gloria they assured me. Everyone loved Gloria. And people thought women liked to gossip.
No one had mentioned Frankie Mitchell, and I didn't want to be too obvious. Maybe I could find out something at lunch.
Just then the door opened and Harry came in whistling "Love is a Many Splendored Thing". I found that a little irritating since I hadn't seen him since his date with Frankie on Saturday night and I was ready to be irritated by any and all signs that he'd had a good time. He stopped short when he saw the men draped around my desk and said, "So, gentlemen, I see you have met my new assistant, Ms. McIntire."
"We were just introducing ourselves, Harry." Rodney explained enthusiastically. Johnny jumped up from the edge of the desk and added, "Just welcoming her to the building."
"I appreciate that, guys. Very nice of you, but if you will excuse us-we have some work to do."
"Sure thing. We'll get out of your hair. We were just convincing Hannah to have lunch with us out on the patio. You should join us."
"I would love to, but I'm afraid I have a lunch date today." He looked knowingly at the two men and they punched him on the shoulder and winked and gave him a thumbs up 'Way to go, Harry' kind of signal as they backed out of the office. I got the impression that they didn't have lunch dates very often.
The door closed behind them, and Harry-I was determined to think of him as Harry-turned around to give me the once over.
"Are you going to have a different hair color every day?" He seemed kind of grumpy now that we were alone.
And why was he complaining about my hair? He hadn't seen me for two days and that was the first thing he said to me?
"I'm supposed to be flamboyant." I touched my wig self consciously.
He snorted in what I considered to be a rude manner and headed for his office.
"Don't you want to hear how Gunny and I spent Saturday night?"
"I can't wait," he said sourly. "Come on into my office."
I followed him in and sat down. "Well, since we knew Frankie had gone out with you, we broke into her office."
That got his attention. He seemed anxious to know what we'd found. "And?"
"Well, we got all dressed up in our black sneaky spy outfits and skulked around, but we didn't find anything. But then again we didn't really expect to. That would have been too easy."
"So I guess that means Plan B goes into effect?" He sighed. He still didn't like the idea of scaring her.
"Gunny-I mean Cente-will start following her today."
"Alright. I am having lunch with her at Oregano's at twelve thirty. Why don't you let him know that we'll be there."
"Okay, I'll be sure to let him know." I was the picture of cool detachment as I plastered a fake smile on my face and got up to leave.
"Hey Mac. Don't you want to hear how I spent Saturday night?"
I plopped myself back down into the chair with what I hoped wasn't a world weary sigh and said, "Go ahead, Romeo. Fill me in on all the gory details."
He leaned back and tilted his head to one side as he reminisced about the night. "Well, when I went to pick her up she met me at the door in a black filmy negligee."
I picked up a file folder off his desk and threw it at him. He was laughing as I turned to stomp out of the room.
Frankie Mitchell was standing in the doorway watching us, and she didn't seem amused.
To be continued.
Harm walked into the front bathroom without saying a word. I heard the sound of cabinet and closet doors opening and closing, and then he came out with an arm full of linens.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"I'm making up the couch." He smoothed a sheet over the fake leather and started tucking it into the cushions.
"You don't have to do that." I protested.
"Oh yes I do. There is no way you are sharing a bed with him."
"Harm, you're being silly," I said though I actually thought it was sweet.
He ignored me and spread out a white blanket across the lavender sheets. "It needs a pillow," he said. Then he knocked once on the bedroom door, barged inside, grabbed a pillow off the bed and came back out with it before Victor could say a word.
I took the orange and teal striped pillow from him, wondering fleetingly where they'd found sheets to match that god-awful bedspread, and put it on the couch. I wrapped my arms around his waist and said, "Thank you."
"For what," he asked gruffly as he stood stiffly in my embrace.
"For caring and not trying to hide it." I reached up and kissed him on the chin.
"I'm tired of hiding it," he said as he finally relaxed and wrapped his arms around me.
"Me too," I mumbled into his chest. I gave him a squeeze and sat down on the white fuzzy blanket, pulling him with me.
"I could sleep here," he offered while nuzzling my neck.
"I like the sound of that," I gasped as his tongue found my ear.
"And you could go to my apartment and sleep in my bed," he murmured.
"What's fun about that?" I complained.
"You'd be more comfortable, and I like the idea of smelling you on my sheets." His low voice vibrated close to my ear, and it was all I could do not to moan.
"Your legs would hang off the end of this thing, and I smell like vegetable soup."
"It's smells good on you." His mouth was inches from mine. "Makes me hungry."
I closed my eyes, expecting his kiss, but it didn't come.
When I reopened my eyes he was studying me carefully.
"What are you doing?" I asked huskily.
"I'm practicing resisting you." His eyes were focused on my mouth and it somehow felt like he was kissing me anyway.
My breath caught in my throat, and I licked my lips as I imagined how he tasted.
His eyes flared with desire and he said a little desperately, "I better get out of here." He stood up quickly and laced his fingers with mine. "Walk me to the door."
I held onto his hand as if it was the only connection to him I had left. We were about to change partners in this crazy dance of intrigue, and deceit and I was reluctant to let him go. But there was no turning back, and I wanted this thing to be over with quickly. Our life was waiting for us somewhere on the other side of this masquerade, and I was willing to dance with the devil himself if it would help.
"Night Mac." His thumb brushed the back of my hand.
I pulled my hand away from his in an act of faith that everything would be alright and smiled at the man I loved. "Night Harm."
Tomorrow he could be Harry.
**
I was sitting at my desk bright and early Monday morning. Harm had dropped off the keys and some general instructions for opening the office when he had stopped by my apartment on Saturday morning, but then I hadn't seen him since. All of my pencils were sharpened. My fake files were alphabetized and my appointment book was open and ready to face the day. My boss, however, still hadn't made an appearance. Apparently Harry Baldridge was no more of a morning person than Harmon Rabb Jr. According to his appointment book he did have several clients coming in that day. I assumed they were set up by Catherine so we would have some traffic. It might look suspicious if I sat and did nothing but filed my nails all day.
I had chosen a 'conservative' outfit for my first day on the job. A simple winter white pleated skirt was paired with a fuchsia turtleneck. I had decided to go with a short curly red wig in honor of Frankie Mitchell. If Harm liked redheads I could be a redhead too. The skirt was too short and the turtleneck was too tight but my feet were having a holiday in a pair of flat pink ballet style slippers. The three inch heels that Webb had picked out to go with this ensemble were languishing in my closet and that was where they would stay. I had rebelliously taken time on Saturday afternoon to go shopping for shoes-flat shoes and lots of them.
People, mainly men, kept dropping by to introduce themselves. It was a very friendly building. Johnny Mortensen from the accounting office down the hall was sitting on the edge of my desk. Rodney Stiles an insurance agent was occupying one of the chairs provided for waiting clients and was trying to convince me to join them on the patio around noon for lunch. I had already agreed and had tried to shoo them out of the office, but they just sat there and kept talking. I had already learned that Kelly Lynn Sanders a secretary in office 115 was pregnant with her second child. I should watch out for Mickey Cornell because he would try to hit on me and he was a real sleaze bag. Gloria Randall ran the front office for the food bank on the other side of the building and she was a doll. I would love Gloria they assured me. Everyone loved Gloria. And people thought women liked to gossip.
No one had mentioned Frankie Mitchell, and I didn't want to be too obvious. Maybe I could find out something at lunch.
Just then the door opened and Harry came in whistling "Love is a Many Splendored Thing". I found that a little irritating since I hadn't seen him since his date with Frankie on Saturday night and I was ready to be irritated by any and all signs that he'd had a good time. He stopped short when he saw the men draped around my desk and said, "So, gentlemen, I see you have met my new assistant, Ms. McIntire."
"We were just introducing ourselves, Harry." Rodney explained enthusiastically. Johnny jumped up from the edge of the desk and added, "Just welcoming her to the building."
"I appreciate that, guys. Very nice of you, but if you will excuse us-we have some work to do."
"Sure thing. We'll get out of your hair. We were just convincing Hannah to have lunch with us out on the patio. You should join us."
"I would love to, but I'm afraid I have a lunch date today." He looked knowingly at the two men and they punched him on the shoulder and winked and gave him a thumbs up 'Way to go, Harry' kind of signal as they backed out of the office. I got the impression that they didn't have lunch dates very often.
The door closed behind them, and Harry-I was determined to think of him as Harry-turned around to give me the once over.
"Are you going to have a different hair color every day?" He seemed kind of grumpy now that we were alone.
And why was he complaining about my hair? He hadn't seen me for two days and that was the first thing he said to me?
"I'm supposed to be flamboyant." I touched my wig self consciously.
He snorted in what I considered to be a rude manner and headed for his office.
"Don't you want to hear how Gunny and I spent Saturday night?"
"I can't wait," he said sourly. "Come on into my office."
I followed him in and sat down. "Well, since we knew Frankie had gone out with you, we broke into her office."
That got his attention. He seemed anxious to know what we'd found. "And?"
"Well, we got all dressed up in our black sneaky spy outfits and skulked around, but we didn't find anything. But then again we didn't really expect to. That would have been too easy."
"So I guess that means Plan B goes into effect?" He sighed. He still didn't like the idea of scaring her.
"Gunny-I mean Cente-will start following her today."
"Alright. I am having lunch with her at Oregano's at twelve thirty. Why don't you let him know that we'll be there."
"Okay, I'll be sure to let him know." I was the picture of cool detachment as I plastered a fake smile on my face and got up to leave.
"Hey Mac. Don't you want to hear how I spent Saturday night?"
I plopped myself back down into the chair with what I hoped wasn't a world weary sigh and said, "Go ahead, Romeo. Fill me in on all the gory details."
He leaned back and tilted his head to one side as he reminisced about the night. "Well, when I went to pick her up she met me at the door in a black filmy negligee."
I picked up a file folder off his desk and threw it at him. He was laughing as I turned to stomp out of the room.
Frankie Mitchell was standing in the doorway watching us, and she didn't seem amused.
To be continued.