August 1984 – Wallace & McQuade, NYC

The next Monday morning, Grant opened the door to Angela's office and found her standing behind her desk, flipping through an armload of files. Spinning quickly at the door, he locked it. Angela looked up.

What's he doing?

"Grant?"

He walked over to her, sighing extensively in pained pleasure, "God, I love hearing you say that." He squinted at her a little, "Did you cut your hair?" He looked it over and spoke in a low realization. "– it's sexy as hell."

Angela was getting worried.

"Um, yes, thank you," she rushed. "Grant?"

He stepped up close to her and looked down into her eyes, speaking in a throaty whisper, "I've been thinking about you all weekend."

Angela's eyes flickered toward her doorknob.

"Grant. Aren't you concerned about…"

His gaze followed hers, then he looked back in her eyes, "People knowing?" he finished.

Angela nodded at him pointedly. Uh, yeah! Are you out of your mind?

He trailed his finger under her forearm. "Am I that embarrassing?" he teased.

Angela gave a nervous laugh. This was already beginning to evolve into all she'd feared going home that night. This wasn't just about her and Grant. This was about the holistic impact of such an alliance to their livelihoods and reputations, namely hers.

Angela didn't want to be a prude, nor come off as one. She was interested. But it was a precarious setup, and she was seriously doubting how well Grant understood that. She was also not sure how far she wanted this to go, how far he wanted it to go – well, maybe, how long he wanted to be there - and that made it difficult to determine how much she was willing to pay for it.

And considering why she apparently kept her job two years ago, she was progressively distracted by the reality that how this played out could already have a reaching effect. She opted for diplomatic de-escalation.

With a quick lick to her lips, she flicked her jaw to the side. "No... No, in any other building, I'd be tempted to hang a 'Do Not Disturb' sign."

His delighted smile mellowed with realization. "But not here," he translated.

She returned the sobriety of his smile, "Exactly."

He looked somewhat unconvinced. "Do you really think anyone will notice if I flip a lock? I would think walking in on us would be more of a red flag."

"Yeahhh…" she looked up at him playfully. "But maybe that means we should save this for another place and time."

He didn't drop eye contact when he revealed his disappointment.

Angela didn't retreat. "And for the record, Jim notices everything and sorts it all through the nasty filter that is his mind. You wouldn't believe the things he said to me during that first year of OJT."

Grant eyelids dropped half-way down. "Then I guess you wouldn't believe that was his watered-down version," he said dryly.

In a natural reflex of some kind, Angela took a half-step forward and dropped her forehead to his chest. "Ewww!" she growled.

Grant smiled and wrapped his arms tightly around her upper back. OHH - that feels good. I forgot how much I missed that. She felt protected.

Grant patted her shoulder, "All part of the show, my friend. You made it though."

She did not feel protected.

She internally shook her head. I'm getting ahead of myself, here.

Angela stepped back and scrunched her face at him, "Why did you hire him?"

"Angela, you don't let personal preferences get in the way of business decisions. Yeah, he's a prick, but so what? He's good at his job. I don't have to introduce him to my sister."

"You aren't concerned that a man's character in one area might leak into another?"

Grant's jaw stiffened and he took a step back.

Crap! Did I just scold my boss – on a BUSINESS decision?

Angela let out a quick laugh of embarrassment. She exhaled and looked down. "I'm sorry... I guess this kind of thing gets a little fuzzy." She looked up at him again and tried to smile.

After a second or two, his face softened and he sighed, "Yeah, I guess it does."

She froze as he leaned down to kiss her cheek. Backing up, he spoke quietly, "But like I said, you're worth it." He winked at her and left her standing there, wondering what she'd gotten herself into.


August 1984 – Wallace & McQuade, NYC

The next morning, Rosie was waiting for Angela at the front desk when she came in. "Mrs. Bower!"

"Rosie? What's wrong?"

They walked through the reception area, Rosie pulling on Angela's arm. "Mr. Paxton told me to get you right when you came in. He wants all you big guys in the boardroom, ASAP!"

Angela looked down at her elbow that was being pulled, "Is it that big of a rush?"

Rosie nodded quickly, and Angela picked up the pace.


Though right at 9am, Angela was the last executive to hustle into the boardroom. Grant was looking down, leaning over the head of the table on his extended arms. His head flipped up when she came in. She couldn't decipher his expression, but the air in the room was ruthlessly tense. She shut the door and sat down.

Grant stood straight and held up an envelope. "I just received a check from Bensalem Plastics this morning for $400,000 along with a copy of the contract."

Uhhh-

He laughed almost maniacally. "It was a little confusing, because, as you all know, the negotiated agreement was $4 million."

And there went the last of the oxygen.

Oh, no!

Grant smacked the table, hard. "Would you mind telling me who the fuck signed off on this!?" He shook the envelope up by his head. "It's chicken scratch!"

The blood that had started draining from Angela's face returned full-force to her cheeks. Taking a shaky breath, she stood up slowly.

Grant looked at her in horror.

"I did it," Angela's voice tried to say as levelly as possible.

Grant didn't say anything, he just stood there, looking like she'd betrayed him. Every other person in the room, besides Jim, looked like they wanted to disappear. Jim looked like he wished she'd provided popcorn for the event.

Angela swallowed, and her breath came out a little gaspy. She tried to explain, "I, uh- I remember looking over the contract before I signed it, but obviously, I didn't look carefully enough…" her voice strained to capacity, "I must've missed that last zero."

Her throat was so tight. She felt beads of sweat push through her freshly applied makeup. And the look on Grant's face was excruciating.

3.6 million dollars. Gone. I've spent 8 years proving myself, and now this!?

Angela channeled every ounce of professionalism she had into keeping back the tears. "I'm sorry, Grant," she whispered.

Jim's open mouth whipped toward her. Everybody else just looked confused.

Angela had just enough presence of mind, and stopped herself from squeezing her eyes shut in pure indictment. She managed to lift her head and make her voice low and confident, "I'll fix this."

Jim's wry voice couldn't contain his disdain. "The IRS doesn't have a fuck-up deduction, Barbie."

"Shut up, Jim," Grant said calmly, still staring at Angela.

Grant spent several empty seconds watching her before speaking quietly. "Go talk to them."

Then he left the room, dropping the envelope onto the table as he went.

Angela's head fell to her chest. Taking a breath, she picked up the afflicted contract and left without looking at anyone.


Angela acquired a corrected contract and immediately took the train home. She freshened up as fast as she could, had her usual stilted conversation with Mrs. Hiller - in which she found out that her mother had picked up Jonathan for the day, got in her car, and started the long drive to Pennsylvania.

Angela made it to Bensalem's corporate offices by mid-afternoon. Scooting her chair back, she switched out of her penny loafers and into the four-inch heels that needlessly elongated the legs supporting her knee-length, navy skirt suit.

Getting out, she took a minute to stretch and attempted to brush out any wrinkles on her front. Curiously, she hadn't thought much about what she was going to say on the almost 3 hour drive over here. Her only goal was to clear up the "misunderstanding" with logic. She'd cross the next bridge if she came to it. She lifted her chin and walked through the revolving doors of the multi-story building.

Smiling warmly at the receptionist, Angela introduced herself and asked to speak with the General Manager. She sat down in one of the many open chairs and waited patiently for an audience.

At 4:26pm, a large man in a black suit came through the locked door into the lobby. "Miss Bower?" his severely displaced southern accent drawled. "I do hope you'll pardon my rudeness in keeping you waitin' so long. I had a great many things which needed my utmost attention."

Standing, Angela reached out her hand. "It's Mrs., actually," she smiled. "And it's no problem at all, Mr. Cooper. Thank you for agreeing to meet with me on such short notice." While she no longer had a need to associate herself with Michael in any normal respect, she was more than happy to barricade herself behind the law on this one. There's something creepy about this guy, but I need to make this work.

Mr. Cooper shook her hand, lingering with a knowing smile. Bushy, white eyebrows went up on his round, red face, and he apparently joked, "…Mrs., then." He laughed. "Come on back here, little lady, and we'll pow wow."

Angela internally rolled her eyes and followed the man back to his office.

Mr. Cooper shut the door behind them and extended his hand toward the couch. He sat in the leather chair on its corner. Angela sat down stiffly, smoothing her skirt flat and long from underneath.

"Would you like a sweet tea, Mrs. Bower? I have my secretary brew it just so."

"Oh, no thank you, sir."

"Alright then." He lifted his chin and smiled at her directly. "Now, why have I been granted the pleasure of your company this fine afternoon?"

Angela smiled politely and took both contracts out of her briefcase. "Mr. Cooper, I have made a gross error, and I hope you'll oblige me in correcting it."

"Aww, nothin' about you could be gross, little miss. What is it you've done?"

Angela ignored his patronizing advance and handed him the paperwork. "As you can see, sir, when your Marketing Director came to our office in New York, it was agreed that the sum total for services rendered would be exactly $4 million."

Her embarrassment kicked up. This was a phenomenally stupid mistake, and she tried to stifle the urge to make it seem silly. But a nervous laugh escaped her anyway. "But we had a typo on the contract, and I didn't see it. I signed it and sent it to you under the impression that it was correct. You honored the requested amount and sent us the appropriate check. But, as you can see, this is a major difference, and I'd be grateful if you'd adhere to the original agreement."

Mr. Cooper looked up from the contracts. "My, my…That is a sticky situation." His slithery smile was taxing her greatly, but she kept her face level.

"Yes, sir, it is."

He held an increasingly repugnant level of eye contact for several seconds, but she didn't flinch, even when it dropped lower.

"I do love it when they send a woman to do a man's job." Angela almost lost her bearing, but he sighed and then continued to speak. "Of course, I'll help you, Mrs. Bower. I couldn't have you gettin' into trouble on my account, now could I?"

Mr. Cooper kept staring at her as he reached inside his lapel and took a pen out of his shirt pocket. Looking down, he signed the new contract and voided the old check. Handing them back to her, he got up. "Please excuse me for a moment, and I'll have my Accounting department cut you a new check."

She stood, and he looked her over before walking out of his office. The door shut, and Angela physically shook his eyes off her. Nasty! And I thought Jim was bad! I cannot wait to get out of here!

But she was ecstatic to be going home with that check. I can't believe I did this!

After several minutes, Mr. Cooper came in the door with a check in hand. He held it out to her, and she walked toward him. He watched her. She made her best attempt at a smile as she took it. "Thank y-"

Her fingers brushed his and he pulled the paper back, "Oh, do forgive me. I seem to have forgotten to sign it."

Instantly she let it go, and it snapped back to him. By this point, she was pretty sure he could see how forced her smile was, but she tried to keep it up, nonetheless.

His lids lowered ever so slightly, but he slowly walked to his desk and bent over to sign the check. Angela preempted his game and made the swift trek over to him to retrieve it. He handed it to her, that spooky smile showing no sign of surrender.

"Thank you, Mr. Cooper. I appreciate your help."

"Oh, anytime, little miss. Anytime."

With a pained smile and the loaded check, she left hell as fast as she could.


Angela marched with a purpose down her office hallway that night. She knew nobody would be there, but she wanted the check safely inside those walls. Walking into her office, she left the light off and locked the check in her desk drawer. She stood to leave.

"Angela?"

Angela jumped.

"Grant."

He smiled at her tentatively and walked over to her, not bothering to turn on the light, either. "How'd it go?"

A moonbeam shone through her window, and it seemed like more than enough for the situation.

She kept her face still. "I got it," she said quietly.

Grant let out a massive exhale, "Oh, thank God!"

Angela smiled slightly. Grant collected himself and glanced nervously at her for several seconds.

"This is complicated, isn't it?" he said quietly.

Angela hugged herself and nodded quickly.

They each stood looking away from the other, not saying anything.

Finally, Angela spoke, "Grant, do you think this is a good idea? Us? Because I'm not so sure."

Grant started to look mildly panicked but then answered smoothly. "Angela, I know things got tricky today, but we can handle this. You powered through, like I knew you could."

"I didn't just slip up there. I called you by your first name in front of everybody."

Grant chuckled a little, wiping his fingers over his mouth. "Yeah. Yeah, you did."

Okay, he's clearly less worried about discretion than I.

She kept going, eyes wide. "And you didn't yell at me when I lost three and a half million dollars!"

His eyebrows acknowledged her statement, but he didn't otherwise respond.

Sighing, Angela looked away again.

Grant let out a frustrated exhale and spoke up, "Okay, what is it that gets you going, Angela? Honesty?" She looked back up him, furrowing her brows. "'Honestly', I've been pining for you for the better part of a decade, and I'll be damned if I'm going to let some little inconvenience get in my way!"

Wow. That is quite the turn on.

She kept her face still but lowered her gaze down and back up his body. Looking into his eyes, she turned her smile coy, "'Honestly'? I think I called you Mr. Paxton all those years because I didn't trust myself to call you, 'Grant'."

Angela watched as Grant's face noticeably relaxed.

Again, seconds passed.

"That's hot," he said quietly, returning her same smile.

She decided to bring sincerity back to the foreground. "So, is that what you're wanting, here, Grant? Hot?"

He looked a little confused, but made a nervous laugh as he shrugged, "Sounds good to me."

Angela didn't know what she wanted out of this. But did she have to? Let's just go with it. I'm sick of feeling like shit. And around Grant, I feel pretty damned good.

Angela cocked her head and opened her mouth a little. After a second, she stepped up to him and put her hands on her hips. Pushing her elbows backward, she invited his stare. She let her plan work for a few moments, then interrupted his view by placing gentle kisses on the softer skin under his jaw.

Grant's eyes closed and his head tipped back, hands dropping blindly to her waist. She kept her hands on her hips and pushed forcefully against him. But her mouth, she kept gentle. Letting her tongue join in, she kissed lightly back toward his neck, slowly working her way down toward his throat.

Grant groaned and pressed his body tightly against hers. Opening his eyes, he flipped his head down and kissed her mouth, hard. Their arms wrapped around each other and rubbed wildly.

He put his forehead to hers, and in a low, desperate whisper, he asked, "Can I touch you?". It almost seemed amusing, considering how much of him was already touching her, but she also would've been mad if he hadn't asked. Relaxing, she let herself be enamored by his courtesy.

She looked him in the eye, and whispered back, "Yes, please."

Grant held eye contact as he undid the buttons of her blazer. Those same eyes had stared at her across the boardroom for years, and she never let herself think what was behind it. Her own eyes drifted shut, and as he palmed her breast through her blouse, she reached up and lightly held his face. He kissed her, soft at first, then deepened it. He let his hands take turns squeezing her breasts and holding her back close to him.

Pulling her shirt loose, Grant reached under it and trailed his fingers up her torso on his way to get a better grip. Angela moved her hands down to rub his shoulders, thoroughly enjoying the fulfillment of what they were doing. It felt good to hold onto a man again, to have him hold onto her. The way he squeezed and pressed and kissed, it was easy to believe he'd been wanting to for a long time. Herself, she'd spent a long time suppressing a lot of things, and her awakening felt…spicy. She continued kissing him and undid the button on his jacket. He let her push it off him, and she concentrated on feeling the muscle at his shoulders.

Grant felt different than Michael, and that didn't bother her this time. Actually, the fact that he was her boss zinged her unexpectedly. It felt like she was finally breaking free of everything to which she'd shackled herself, and she was curious to explore what, in fact, should and shouldn't be shackled. It's not that she thought she wanted to do this while she was trying to make it work with Michael - she was just mad she tried so hard to make it work with Michael. And there was a - what did Michael call it? a 'new world'? - of things to explore here, and she was having a damn fine time doing it.

But when she felt Grant unclasp her bra and kiss down her neck, she knew she was going to have to kill this soon. She didn't want to, but I don't think I'm ready to go all the way there yet; I'm just enjoying allowing myself to enjoy this. His hands were warm and felt amazing. When she naturally started grinding against him, she groaned out loud.

"Graaaant," she almost whined. "We've got to stop…"

"Do we?" he mouthed against her chest.

Angela breathed deeply and brought her hands to her forehead, nodding her head to no one in particular. Grant sucked on a nipple through her blouse, and she took a deep gasp of a breath and pushed back from him. "Yes!"

Grant reached for her waist and smiled widely as he caught his breath, "Is this one of those times when you're scared of yourself?"

"Uh- HUH!" she laughed self-consciously.

Tilting his head back and forth in maddeningly controlled playfulness, he breathed, "…I can live with that."

Grant stepped back and breathed a few times before picking up his jacket. Angela re-hooked her bra.

"You need any help with that?" he smiled obnoxiously.

"NO, thank you," she played back. Though it's nice to have him not just look away as I dress when he doesn't get what he wants – like Michael.

She made an internal pause.

I'm thinking about Michael way more than I want to. Here I was, just felt up by this amazing guy, and I'm still letting that cruel asshole back in my head!

Grant looked her in the eye as he buttoned up his jacket. "Hey, Angela? I think you're right. I think we should keep this away from the office."

She scoffed, "How about away from the city?"

"Deal," he said, smiling widely. "It's just…" He touched her elbow and looked down into her eyes. "I can't go into all of it right now, but keep your nose clean, alright? There's some good stuff on the horizon, and I want you to be in on it."

She squinted at him a little but nodded. That was weird. But she still got that feeling again, like she was being protected.

"…And Angela?"

She picked up her briefcase and looked up at him, questioning. "You did well today. I don't know how you did it, but getting that money back is actually more impressive than not losing it to begin with…" He laughed, " –but please don't impress me like that ever again."

Wow - that is a different way of being treated, isn't it?

She wanted more of it.

"Oh, don't worry; I plan to impress you in other ways."

"Hot damn!" he squeaked.

She laughed, and they walked together down the darkened hallway to the lobby.

Shooting a sexy side eye over at Grant, Angela entertained one last forbidden thought:

I am not asexual, Michael - and neither am I yours.