Even Odds (20 page)

“Sure.” Isabel unfolded the directions in front of her. “I don't understand why they can't put these directions in English instead of using creepy cartoons.”

“Probably because the furniture is Swedish, not English.” Caleb emerged with two beers that he'd opened. “It's Blue Moon. I hope that's okay.”

“I'm not picky.” Isabel took one and drank, the tangy wheat beer refreshing. She hadn't realized she was thirsty until then.

Caleb sat down next to her, no trace of self-consciousness in his near nakedness, and for some reason, she felt the same. She'd thrown on one of his T-shirts so she didn't have to put her work polo back on, but that and her underwear were all she wore, and it seemed natural. The baseball game was still on, since neither of them had remembered to turn it off in their haste to get to the bedroom, but all their attention was focused on the bookcase.

“I've built one like this before, actually.” Caleb pulled the directions over to him. “I told you, I think almost everything in this apartment is made out of this stuff.”

“I'm surprised you don't make furniture, being a sculptor and all.” Isabel leaned back on her hands and watched Caleb fit the first screws into place. “Doesn't this prefab stuff hurt your artistic sensibilities?”

Caleb raised an eyebrow. “You're kidding, right?”

“What?” Isabel asked, defensive. “It's a logical question. You build things. Why not build things you can use?”

“I have no skill in terms of making things that someone could actually use. If I made furniture, it would all collapse in on itself and probably give people splinters or something.” He gestured to the pile of tools. “Give me two of those silver things. Not those, the other ones. The ones next to them. Yeah.” Proper parts in hand, he continued the assembly.

Isabel looked at the parts arrayed in front of her. She would probably be better off not helping at all. The beer was good, though, and even the cold pizza was delicious. She stretched one leg out to the side, the other folded in.

“I'm sorry I freaked out after last weekend.”

Caleb glanced up, still turning one of the screws into place, his expression unreadable. “Yeah, that was unexpected. Generally after I fuck a girl on her desk, she at least sends a card.”

Isabel laughed. His sense of humor made her feel at ease. “You were no better, you know.”

Head down and focused on his work, Caleb shrugged. “I don't really know what this means between us, but I wouldn't mind doing this sort of thing again.”

Isabel felt a little trickle of anxiety that she pushed down, reminding herself that she liked having sex with Caleb, and it didn't need to mean she had to give up her whole career or her reputation. “Maybe we could keep it between us, though.”

Caleb stopped what he was doing and looked up. “What do you mean?”

“I mean . . .” How was she supposed to say this without sounding like she was ashamed of him? “I mean, we don't have to announce to everyone that we're . . . whatever this is.” She gestured between them, hoping her hand waving was enough to avoid a definition. “I don't want people to think that one of us is getting special treatment for the wrong reasons.”

Caleb was silent for a few minutes, tapping all the wooden pegs into the shelves of the bookcase, and Isabel drank her beer and waited. He was going to say something, right? He wouldn't sit there in silence. She wanted to keep talking, but that was probably the wrong thing to do. After what felt like forever, he shrugged, an inadequate response to such a long wait. “If you think that's best. Don't want to ruin your reputation or anything.” Looking up, he smiled, but his smile seemed thinner than normal, or maybe she was just imagining things.

Relief flooded her, making her loosen muscles she hadn't realized she was tensing. “Thanks for understanding.” He was focused on his work again, though, and just nodded. Was she reading him wrong? “Unless you want something more than that?”

Caleb scooted backward on the carpet to give himself more room and started putting the larger pieces of the frame together. “I don't want to make you uncomfortable. Whatever you think is best. It doesn't matter to me.” He paused, two pieces of the bookcase held next to each other but not fastened, and then set them down. “You mind telling me why?”

Isabel looked down at the screws spread out on the floor in front of her. She hadn't explained anything, and he deserved to know what was behind her apprehension. “Right after I got out of school, I worked for a company called Pixel Dream as a level editor. You ever heard of them?”

Caleb shook his head no, but it didn't matter. Isabel continued. “I dated this guy for a while, Adam, one of the programmers. We were aboveboard with it, and everybody knew, but my coworkers were ruthless with the jokes. After we broke up, things weren't the same. A few months later, one of the techs cornered me in the server room.” She paused to drink some beer. “He implied that since I apparently ‘give it out' to anyone who asks, I should ‘give it out' to him.” She used air quotes around the offending words. “I tried to file a sexual harassment suit, but the HR rep advised me against it because my previous relationship with Adam meant I wouldn't be believable.”

“What?” Caleb dropped one of the boards he'd picked up. “That's bullshit. They really said that to you?”

Isabel nodded. “I didn't know any better. I was only twenty-three, fresh out of school, embarrassed to be in that situation at all. I took a settlement in exchange for not pressing charges. Looking back, I wish I'd pressed charges, but back then, I just wanted to avoid conflict. When I got the job at PI Games, I promised myself I wouldn't make the same mistakes.”

Caleb nodded. He studied her for a few minutes, thinking, before returning to the assembly. “I understand. I can't say I agree, but I understand. I hope that if things continue with us, you and me, you might be willing to go public.”

Isabel shrugged. “Maybe.” He wasn't pressuring her, which made her relax. Maybe someday she would be willing to make this more official. For now, though, she could enjoy whatever this was and not have to worry about its implications at work.

After a few more minutes of assembly, Caleb righted the bookcase and sat back on his heels. “Looks good, right?”

“Looks like a bookcase.” Isabel helped herself to another slice of pizza from the box they'd moved to the floor. “It's even straight up and down. I'd be worried it would end up looking like a rhombus when I was finished with it.”

“Yeah, well, there are some cross pieces that help with that.” Caleb grabbed his beer off the coffee table, then checked the clock. “Shit, it's after eleven.”

“What, you turning into a pumpkin?” For once, Isabel was enjoying herself and didn't want the evening to end. Not defining things with Caleb, but not denying them either, left her happier than she'd been in a while.

“I just didn't realize it had gotten so late. Hey, do you . . . you want to stay the night?” Caleb asked.

Isabel hadn't really considered it. Staying the night was the sort of thing people in relationships did, though, and this wasn't a relationship. But he'd asked, and she really didn't want to drive home, or even put pants on. It was tempting. There was nothing waiting for her at home except some nighttime piano playing and an empty bed. “Okay. If I wouldn't be intruding.”

“No, no problem at all.” Caleb's smile was wider than his earlier one. “I'm not doing the shelving unit tonight, though. That's too much work.”

“Oh come on.” Isabel leaned closer to elbow him. “The night is young. I'm not going to be able to sleep for hours with all this pizza in me.”

Shaking his head, Caleb pulled the large box over to them. “All right, if you insist.”

When Caleb woke up
the next morning, he couldn't figure out why he was so warm. There was something stringy on his face, too, and he half-blindly pushed it out of the way before he heard a noise and remembered everything about the night before. Blinking his eyes open, he saw that the warmth was Isabel, curled up with her back pressed against him, her long black hair over his face. He carefully scooped the strands off his face and neck. She was still asleep, mouth slightly open, looking vulnerable and lovely and, yes, kind of funny with her quiet wheezing snores.

He'd wanted her here in his bed for weeks now. Her request that they keep things quiet should have made him happy, since she was talking about strings-free sex whenever they wanted, along with this friendship thing they had going on. It wasn't a bad arrangement. Certainly better than the arrangement they'd had before, where they'd each apparently been tormented by sexual frustration with no one to appease it. Now, at least he could see her more often. Of course, she'd probably want to meet him somewhere, rather than leaving work together, lest someone figure out they were fooling around. That left an uncomfortable sensation in the pit of his stomach. He understood why she was worried, but he didn't have to like it. He'd never been someone's dirty secret before.

If he had to be someone's dirty secret, though, it wasn't so bad to be Isabel's. Rolling over, he curled up to her, aligning their bodies like nesting spoons. The position was far from perfect, with its dead-arm syndrome and the amazing quantity of hair that managed to get into his mouth every time he breathed, but the intimacy somehow overcame that. He'd never thought of himself as a cuddler. Wrapping an arm over her, he drew her closer, and she snuggled her hips back against his morning erection.

Oh, right. That. Having a beautiful woman in his bed did not help morning wood, but at least she wasn't grinding on it and making the situation less cuddly and more risqué. He loved morning sex as much as the next guy, loved all its sleepy, languorous pleasure, even with morning breath, but Isabel was fast asleep. Brushing her hair aside, he kissed her neck, enjoying the little “mmm” noise she made when he did so. His hand was close to her chest, her incredible breasts straining against his T-shirt, but he didn't want to go groping around while she was asleep. He settled for nibbling his way up to her ear.

Isabel stirred, then started awake with a sudden lurch, not at all like the graceful cuddling of their sleeping. She sat up, nearly clocking Caleb in the nose in her haste, and looked around in disorientation.

“Easy!” He laughed and rolled onto his back, propping himself up on his elbows. “Retract those claws, killer.”

Isabel pressed a hand to her forehead. “Sorry. I forgot where I was.”

“Clearly.” Caleb took that hand from her forehead and tugged her down to him. She went, curling against his side and pillowing her head on his chest. Her hair, predictably, got everywhere, and they laughed while Caleb tried to get it to stay out of his mouth. Isabel retorted by shaking her head, making the curls go even wilder. He pushed her away, laughing, which turned into wrestling, which soon turned into some fairly enthusiastic kissing, which turned into fun, leisurely morning sex.

After finally getting out of bed and showering, they were sitting at the table eating breakfast when Caleb's phone buzzed.

“Hot date?” Isabel spooned some cereal into her mouth and raised her eyebrows at him with a flirtatious grin.

Caleb checked the text. “Nah, it's just Phil. I told him he could come over today and borrow my Copic markers for the weekend. He's thinking about investing in his own set.” He set the phone aside and went back to his coffee.

Isabel froze, spoon halfway to her mouth. “He's coming here today?”

“Yeah, in about an hour. Why?” Caleb drank some of his coffee.

Isabel dropped the spoon into her bowl. “I've gotta go. He can't see me here.”

Caleb hadn't even considered what it would mean to have Isabel in his apartment when Phil showed up. He watched, trying to keep his annoyance at bay, as she ran into the other room to get dressed. “I could hide you in the closet like all my other illicit affairs,” he hollered after her. He tried to say it jokingly, but the situation didn't feel very funny.

She didn't answer him, emerging a minute later pulling her shoes on, wearing her work clothes from the day before. “I'm sorry. I just can't risk Phil seeing me here.”

“At least stay and finish breakfast. He won't be here for another hour.” He heard some of his annoyance come through in his voice. There was cautious, and then there was ridiculous and paranoid, and she was being the latter.

“I can't. If he's early, or we pass in the hall, he'll know.” She grabbed her purse and patted down her pockets. “I think that's everything.” After dropping a kiss on the top of his head, she turned for the door. “Thanks for last night. And this morning. It was fun.”

“Wait a minute,” Caleb said, getting to his feet. Best to just say what he was feeling. “I'm feeling kind of used here.”

Isabel blinked, her eyebrows drawing together in puzzlement. “I'm sorry. I thought you knew I wasn't ready to be known as the office slut.”

So that's how it was. Caleb felt a wall rising between them, accompanied by an uncomfortable sensation in his stomach. “Yeah. Okay. I'll see you Monday.”

Isabel stayed by the door, staring at him, for a few heartbeats. Then she nodded. “Okay. See you then.” And she was gone.