Can't Touch This
Authors: Marley Gibson
Tags: #computer software, #airplane, #hunk, #secret love, #affair, #office, #Forbidden Love, #work, #Miami, #sexy, #Denver, #betrayed, #office romance, #working, #san francisco, #flying, #mile high, #sex, #travel, #Las Vegas, #South Beach, #hot, #Cambridge, #casino, #Boston, #computers
by Marley Gibson
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Copyright © 2011 by Marley Gibson
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
eISBN: 978-1-937776-19-0
The Resisting Temptation Series:
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Find Marley online at
www.MarleyGibson.com
!
Excerpt from THE BRIDE WORE CHOCOLATE by Shirley Jump
T
he receptionist looks
like she’s got one hell of a secret and she’s dying to let it out.
I smile at her through the glass-front door as I punch in my security code and push into the foyer. “You okay, Janine?”
“Hey, Vanessa,” she says, looking around to see if anyone’s watching. “Actually, something’s up.”
I lift an eyebrow.
The telephone rings and she jumps in her seat. “Big announcement today. Big. Huge. The biggest,” Janine whispers. She hits the button on the phone, turns her personality to instant perk and says, “DigitalDirection, how may I direct your call?”
I give her a sidelong glance. Since she’s on the phone, I can’t probe any further on this alleged huge announcement. So, I turn the corner and head down the hallway through the corporate ant farm to my cube. I pass the hodge-podge of office equipment that sits in the far corner. The printer is inactive. Morning reports aren’t churning. Are we still in business? Is this a federal holiday I don’t know about?
The air is pungent with the smell of fresh toner. Hmm...at least the office manager’s busy doing her job. I walk by the president and vice president’s offices. The doors are closed. They’re never closed.
Something big must be stewing indeed.
I stop outside my cubicle. I don’t hear any lively chatter, more like a dull buzz of muted tête-à-têtes. The normal sound of fingers machine-gunning on keyboards has been silenced.
Just as I sit down, my work buddy, Isabella Perry, appears suddenly, hanging over the side divider of my cube. I slap a hand to my heart as my pulse pounds out of whack. “You scared hell and three dollars out of me, Griz!”
I’d dubbed Isabella “Griz”—short for Grizabella the Glamour Cat—when she’d share her obsessive love of the musical “Cats” with me over cocktails and scoping guys one night at a bar in downtown Boston. She’d seen the kids on “Glee” sing about it and now it’s like her theme song or something. However, Griz is a lot like the down and out cat, trying to make a name for herself in the big city, just like me.
“Did you see him?” she asks.
“Him? Who?”
“The babe in the tight pants who was walking down the hallway.”
“I just got here. What have I missed?”
Griz screws her nose up. “Nothing yet, but something’s up.”
“That’s what everyone keeps telling me.” Geez, I haven’t even had my morning coffee and things are percolating here. I love when there’s office intrigue in the air. “What’s going on? Spill it!”
“I can’t tell you more than I know,” Griz says and then darts her gaze around the room.
“Which is?”
“Not a lick or a damn.”
Frustrated, I mock at strangling her. “Don’t make me...”
She raises an eyebrow and grabs a chair from the empty cubicle across from mine, dragging it into my small veal-pen space. “Well, I heard there’s some shuffling in the higher ranks around here.”
“No way!” Seriously? If the ax is falling, I hope it doesn’t chop off my head. I start straightening things on my desk, like neatness will count if someone comes around to fire me.
Get real, Vanessa!
Griz presses on. “Word is we’ve lost six clients because the new software version isn’t ready. Change is definitely in the air. You can count on it.”
In this sad-sack of an economy where so many people are on unemployment and trying to figure out how to pay their mortgages so the banks don’t confiscate their homes and cars, losing one client is
not
an option. Clients leaving the company equals lack of profit. Lack of profit means cutting personnel. Cutting personnel means I’m updating my resume and e-mailing it all over town. My heartbeat triples at the thought of being dire, desperate, and downright panicked.
Instead of thinking about the heavy gloom of the nation’s economy that surrounds us, I refocus on the cute guy that’s been spotted in the hallway. “And this alleged babe you mentioned? What’s his deal?”
“Don’t know. He’s in Jiles’ office as we speak,” Griz reports proudly.
Jiles Chancey. President and CEO. And pain in my ass. What kind of name is Jiles? I mean, I’ve heard of Giles—which means
baby goat
. No kidding. I looked it up one day on a name-your-baby website. Anyway, he’s got this weird shape to him, like he wasn’t turned enough as a sleeping baby, because his head isn’t rounded quite right. His close-clipped blond beard hides how he talks out of the side of his mouth in a not-so-trustworthy manner.
He’s top dog here at DigitalDirection. When I first started here, I quickly learned that Jiles is a control freak who doesn’t take suggestions—especially from women. Especially a junior marketing flunky like me. He nearly snapped my head off the first time I dared to speak during a meeting. Definitely a victim of Little Man Syndrome. Standing a grunt over five-feet-five, he’s someone I look down on...particularly when I’m wearing my trademark three inch heels, which put me up around five-eight on a good day.
Griz bounces in place. “Go walk past his office and look in the window. See what you can see.”
I wave her off. “I don’t think so. What if it’s a negotiator they’ve brought in to do layoffs?” The one thing I can’t imagine is losing my job, no matter how much certain people annoy me. I need the money, the stability, and the security. That’s why I work my ass off, staying late and doing whatever menial tasks this Marketing Coordinator has to perform day in and day out to keep her health care, stock options, and subsidized MBTA pass when there are thousands of people in this city who don’t have any of those things. I can’t even begin to think about updating my resume, hitting the online job searches, or pounding the pavement. I love what I do. Great co-workers (a lot of cute ones), a good atmosphere and plenty of after work activities to keep my social calendar full. “Does your boss know anything, Griz?”
“She’s not talking’,” Griz says sternly in her nasally Midwestern accent.
Originally from the suburbs of Chicago, Isabella moved to Boston six months ago to work on the design team, enhancing our software’s graphical interface. She’s the cutest thing, too. And I don’t mean that in a lesbian way. Since she’s still fairly new to Boston, I’ve taken it upon myself to show her the ropes at work and around town.
“So what do you think?” Griz asks.
“It can’t be anything too horrible,” I say, fidgeting with the pens in my cup. “DigitalDirection is important. We develop state-of-the-art customer relationship management solutions for all businesses.”
Whatever that means.
“I’m so sick of hearing the CRM buzzword.” Griz points her finger into her mouth and pretends to gag in an oh-so-twelve-year-old-girl way. “Besides, you helped write that marketing crap.”
I can’t help but laugh. I guess my minor in creative writing from American University sure is paying off. But I return to the serious, professional Vanessa Virtue. The Vanessa Virtue who has a stack of bills at home and a student loan teetering on the edge of default. I need this job. I don’t want to be forced to throw in the white towel and admit to my parents—particularly my Air Force Colonel father—that I’m not capable of cutting it on my own...even at twenty-five. They’ve kind of been expecting me to fail and come running home. “Oh you know Vanessa...off chasing her crazy dreams.” They can’t understand that I’m a grown up now and can live my life on my own without the structure and strictness of the military lifestyle.
I expel the deep breath I’ve been holding and think about peeking into Jiles’ office. The anxiety of what’s to come is getting to me. I was thinking positively, but now I’m not so optimistic. Shit always happens in business when you least expect it. My heart is pounding out of control, my hands are sweating, and the tension in the air is palpable. “This could be really bad.”
“Calm down,” Griz says. “We don’t even know what’s going on. Lord Almighty, you take things so damn serious, Vanessa.”
I snicker nervously at her. Griz is the daughter of a Baptist minister. Very strict, much like my military father. Only Mr. Perry’s general is God. Griz usually chastises herself for taking the Lord’s name in vain, something instilled in her by years of churchgoing and sermons of fire and brimstone. I’m a terrible influence, though. She’s turned into quite the potty mouth in her months hanging with me after work.
I run my fingers through my wavy hair, messing up the coif I worked so hard on first thing this morning before I left for work. “I should try to find my boss. Or at least check my e-mail.” My BlackBerry has been silent all morning, so if someone knows anything, they’re not talking—at least not to me—yet.
Griz peers over my shoulder as I stealthily input my password into the network system.
“There’s something,” she exclaims and points at my inbox.
“Back off, will you? There might be personal message in here.” I never get anything but jokes from my marketing teammate, Jack, and an endless stream of SPAM inviting me to find singles in my area, start my career with a new adult undergraduate program, or purchase a new 4G Android online for only fifteen dollars. No thanks. I’m not
that
naive.
“There’s an e-mail from Jiles announcing a company meeting at two today.” I look at her. “Didn’t you get this?”
“I haven’t been at my desk. First I’ve heard of it.”
Slightly relieved, I turn back to my friend. We have company meetings all of the time. “Okay. Until then, we need to chill and just get our work done.”
Griz stands and fingers her hair behind her ears. “Right. Work. Let’s meet up for lunch.”
I snort at her one-track mind. I haven’t even finished my chai soy latte and she wants a meal. All part of her charm, though. “Noon-thirty?”
“You’re on. We’ll go to that new place across the street. We can split one of their
huge
sandwiches,” she says.
“How are you so skinny when all you do is eat?” I ask incredulously.
“Clean living,” she says with a smile.
Frustrated as hell at the beginning of the morning and my friend who seems way too chipper than this day calls for, I lay my head on my desk and softly flail up and down a couple of times.
A quieter voice interrupts. “Vanessa, may I speak to you for a minute?”