Fire Down Below (13 page)

When I arrive
at work
the
next morning the place is buzzing with news of Declan’s eminent departure.
Apparently he decided to go ahead and hand in his resignation early. The first
thing that pops into my head is that it has something to do with what happened
between us last night. But then I think about how he told me that he was
leaving yesterday anyway.

Grabbing my coffee, I head up to
Declan’s office, figuring I’ll get the real scoop on what’s going on. On my way
there I run into Greg, our senior manager. I groan silently, wishing there was
some way I could escape, but I can’t think of a single excuse. Ben and I talked
on the phone until three in the morning, so my brain is basically mush.  

“Just the woman I wanted to see,” Greg
says, eyeing me as if I were a slab of meat he’d ordered for breakfast. I have
a sudden urge to throw my coffee in his face, but I’m pretty sure I’d get
fired. I’d do it in a second if I knew I could sue for sexual harassment. Greg
is way too smart for that though. He never does anything that could be
blatantly construed as harassment. He’s never tried to touch me or any of the
women who work “beneath him” (an expression he loves). It’s all in the way he
looks at you and the things he says that have a double meaning. Despite the
fact that Greg is not a bad looking guy, he’s such a lascivious bastard that
his Ken doll looks hold little appeal.

“What’s up?” I ask, trying to
sound neutral.

“This is your lucky day.” He gives
me a wink. “I presume you’ve heard about Declan handing in his resignation this
morning.”

“Yes, I was headed up to talk to
him.”

He grins. “I’m headed to a meeting
right now and word on the vine is that you’re the number one pick for his
replacement.”

I don’t say anything as I digest
this bit of news. It had never occurred to me that I might be offered Declan’s
job.

“Really?” I say, trying not to
appear too shocked. After all I am qualified, so I shouldn’t be surprised.

“How about we rendezvous,” he
pauses and then steps a little closer to me as if we’re planning some sort of
secret tryst, “in my office a couple hours from now? Then I can really give you
the low down.”

I stare at him. His cologne is so
strong it’s making me nauseous. Can’t he smell himself? Or maybe that’s the
whole point. He wants to make sure he’s invading your personal space in every
way. “Sure,” I say, deftly moving away from him. “I’ll meet you there at
eleven.”

When I get upstairs, Declan is standing
in the hall talking to a few people. He’s wearing jeans and a black t-shirt. I
feel nervous after what happened between us. When he sees me, I smile, though
he doesn’t smile back, absorbed in what someone is telling him. Without warning
I get a flash of last night, remembering the way his mouth felt on mine and the
way he didn’t want to let me go even as I was pulling away from him. Lust slams
through me and I have this crazy wish that Ben hadn’t called and that Declan
and I had done more than kiss. But then I think of Ben and how it seems like
fate has brought us together again.

“Hi,” I say to him when there’s a
break in the conversation and people have wandered off. “You’ve been busy. I’m
surprised you already gave your notice.”

Declan shrugs. “It’s time to move
on.”

“Have you heard anything from the
realtor about finding another building?”

“We’ve got a few good leads and
we’re still hoping to rent a place in Pioneer Square, but there’s a spot near
Fremont that might be suitable.” He tells me about some of the various office spaces
their realtor emailed him this morning, describing each one in detail. He
sounds overly professional and maybe it’s my own insecurities, but he seems
distant and not like his normal self at all. Finally he tells me he’d better
get back to work, that just because he’s leaving it doesn’t mean he can slack
off.

“I’m sorry about last night,” I
say in a rush. “I don’t know what happened. Should we talk about it?”

Declan smiles, the first real
smile I’ve seen yet. He puts his hand up to stop me from saying anything more.
“Don’t worry about it, Kate. Seriously. Sometimes things like that happen, but
it didn’t mean anything. Let’s just forget about it—all right?”

I’m not quite sure what to say. In
a strange way I feel disappointed and even kind of insulted. It didn’t mean
anything? What kind of response is that? But of course, he’s right. “Everything
is okay then.”

He nods. “Neither of us is going
to go all
Harry Met Sally
on each other if that’s what you’re worried
about.”

“No.” I try to smile. “I wasn’t
thinking that.”

“Good.”

I take a sip of my coffee which
has grown cold and then glance around to make sure we’re alone. “Greg stopped
me on the way up here and told me they might be offering me your job.”

Declan’s eyebrows rise as he nods
slowly. “Is that right? I hope they do. You’d be good at it. Don’t let them mess
with you over the salary either—they should pay you exactly what they’re paying
me.”

“And what is that? If you don’t
mind my asking.”

He tells me how much money he
makes and now it’s my turn to have raised eyebrows.

“Wow, you make a lot more than I
do.”

“I know.”

Suddenly I feel scared. Am I
really worth that much? Of course I am, I tell myself. Plus I know our business
backwards and forward. Still, I almost wish I hadn’t found out how much money was
involved. Now there’s so much at stake that if I don’t get the promotion I’ll
be disappointed. Not to mention I’m going to have to fight for the same salary as
Declan or I’ll feel like I’m being taken advantage of.

“Don’t worry,” Declan says,
obviously tuning into my self-doubt. “You’re worth every penny. They’ll be
lucky to have you. Remember that. And, hey—if you get tired of this place you
can always join me and Sev.”

“Declan, I’m going to miss you so
much.” I know I sound pitiful, but I can’t help myself. “What am I going to do
without you?’

His expression softens as he takes
in the details of my face. “I’ll miss you too.”

***

My meeting with Greg winds up
being one big tease. Instead of offering me the job, he tells me I’m being
considered along with a couple of other people, and that they’re also
considering hiring an outside person. He won’t know for another week or two. I
feel annoyed, but I know I can’t let it show. I’m supposed to act like I want whatever
is in the best interest of our company. I do point out that I can’t imagine
them finding anyone who understands both our software and our clients as well
as I do.

He agrees, but then shrugs. “I’m only
telling you what Jim and the others have told me. I’ll put in a good word for
you though.”

I stare at him, wondering if he
really means that. He’s so sexist, it’s hard to imagine him backing up a woman,
but maybe I’m wrong.

I spend the rest of the day holed
up in my office, figuring if there’s a time for me to give the impression that
I’m a hard worker, now would be it. There’s a voice message from Lauren on my
cell phone, but I figure I’ll call her back later. Suzy calls me on my regular
line and wants me to go out for lunch, but when I tell her what’s going on at
work she agrees that I should keep a studious profile. She tells me that Lauren
called her and wanted to know if we were up for a day of shopping on Saturday. Sure,
I say. I’m always happy to spend money.

The rest of the week goes by in a blur,
except that Ben has been calling me every night. We usually talk for hours and it’s
gotten so I look forward to hearing his voice. I’ve been telling him about all
the big happenings at work and while he’s interested and supportive, our phone
conversations are getting more flirtatious and sexual in nature. We’ve even had
the safe sex talk. I can’t decide if all this sex talk is good or bad. I don’t
want to give the impression that I’m going to jump into bed with him right away,
but at the same time it feels so comfortable, like the years apart were only a
long hiatus.

When Friday evening rolls around
and I’m preparing for our date, I decide to play it cool. As I stand in front
of the mirror before taking a shower, I make a solemn vow to myself that I will
absolutely, under no circumstances, sleep with Ben tonight. I’m going to stick
with Lauren’s fourth date rule. And to make sure I keep my promise I skip
shaving my legs and wear plain white cotton bikini panties and a plain white
bra.

Hairy legs and un-sexy lingerie.
Talk about the perfect birth control. There’s not a glimmer of smooth skin or black
lace in sight. If I owned a pair of nude colored granny panties that went clear
up to my waist I’d probably wear those, but I don’t own anything (thank
heavens!) even remotely resembling that.

At six forty-five there’s a knock
at my front door. Ben was supposed to be here at seven o’clock, but true to
form he’s early. Luckily I’m dressed and ready to go. I’m wearing a pearl
colored silk blouse, flowing tan slacks, and a pair of strappy high heel
sandals. He said he wanted to take me someplace extra nice, so we have dinner
reservations for Canto’s, one of Seattle’s best restaurants. When I open the
door I find Ben standing there wearing a tie and jacket, looking as handsome as
ever. What’s more he is holding a large bouquet of daisies—my favorite flower.

“These are for you,” he says
handing the flowers to me.

I take them and for a moment I’m too
moved to speak. The bouquet is gorgeous, with every size and color of daisy imaginable
from large purple blossoms to small delicate white ones. Clearly some thought
went into the arrangement.

“They’re beautiful,” I say softly.
“Thank you. I can’t believe you remembered.” I glance up meeting his gaze. “I’m
going to grab a vase. Make yourself comfortable.”

I find a large crystal vase under
the kitchen sink and fill it with water, arranging the flowers inside. I don’t know
what it is about getting flowers that always makes me melt. Is it a genetic trait
all women share? I imagine even brutish cavemen brought their women flowers as
a way of getting into their hearts, not to mention under those animal skin
skirts. I’ll bet it worked every time.

I bring the vase of flowers out to
the living room and place them in the center of the coffee table where they
brighten up the whole room. Ben is standing next to the bookshelf.

“I never knew you were into
detective novels,” he says. “I’ve read a lot of these myself.”

“Have you? They’re really fun. I read
them a while ago.” Truthfully Declan is the one who got me into reading them,
but I decide this is probably not the best thing to tell Ben.  

“Who’s you’re favorite?”

“I like Raymond Chandler a lot.
Also James Patterson is really good.”

Ben nods. “Yeah, Chandler’s
amazing. I wish I could write something like
The Big Sleep
, but I know that’s
only wishful thinking.”

“Do you still write?”

He shrugs. “Sometimes. Not that
much anymore.  I’m so busy with work that it’s hard to find the time. I get
ideas for stories occasionally, but I seldom follow through with them.”

“That’s too bad. I always thought
you were a good writer.”

“Yeah, I remember you were really supportive
that way.” He smiles at me. “So this is a nice house,” he says, glancing
around. “I’d like to see more of it. Do you want to give me the guided tour or
should I start exploring myself?”

“I’ll give you the tour,” I say
with a laugh.  

I begin taking him through my home,
room by room, pointing out various features that I like. He tells me that he
owned a couple of houses when he lived in Boulder that he remodeled and later sold
for a profit. The last room I take him into is my bedroom.

I open the door, figuring we’ll
take a quick peek and then leave, but Ben walks inside. I have a lot of art
work on the walls throughout my house, but the only piece of my own I have
hanging anywhere is in my bedroom. It’s one of the few still life paintings
I’ve ever done and is, believe it or not, a field of daisies.

Ben walks over to it. “This is one
of yours, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is.” I walk over and
stand next to him. Even though the painting is hanging someplace where I see it
every day, it’s been a long time since I’ve really looked at it.

“It has your style all the way. I
can practically smell the flower pollen and hear the bees buzzing.”

Ben wanders around my room examining
various items. I know I should remind him about our dinner reservations, but I
don’t. Instead I watch him, drinking him in. Freshly shaven and showered, he
looks handsome in his newly pressed shirt and tie. There’s something about
knowing that a man has taken the time and trouble to look good for me that
turns me on.

I realize it’s not a coincidence that
Ben has come back into my life at the same time I have a yearning to create art
again. Some things in life are synchronous and happen for a reason.

As I’m pondering this, I notice
that Ben is no longer wandering around my room, but is standing directly behind
me. I don’t move or say anything and neither does he. We just stand there, and
for an instant it’s like that reckless feeling you have when you’re at the top
of a roller coaster, right before it takes the plunge down. It’s too late to
change your mind, but you don’t want to anyway. Then the moment arrives, the
ride has begun, and I feel his arms slide around my waist, pulling me in tight as
I close my eyes.

***

“I’ve been thinking about you,” he
says, his lips brushing my ear, his chest hard against my back. “Have you been
thinking about me?”

“Yes.” I swallow, trying to keep
my voice steady.

“I’ve been thinking about all the things
we used to do to each other.”

And suddenly it’s like no time has
passed. It’s like it used to be, and Ben is talking dirty to me again, touching
me, sliding his hands in all the places he once knew so well. Desire slices
through me like a knife and my breath is coming fast. A fierce passion buids in
me, one that I haven’t experienced in ages—like I want to tear his clothes off,
dig my nails in his back and beg him to fuck me. I feel hot and tingly all over
and it’s with some effort that I keep my hands down, trying to hold myself in
check.

He’s kissing the back of my neck
when he pulls away slightly. “Are you wearing Opium?”

“I wore it for you...do you still like
it?” The truth is I haven’t worn Opium in years. I stopped wearing it when we
broke up, though I kept the bottle. When I saw it sitting there with all my
other perfume earlier, I figured what the heck and sprayed myself with some.

“God, yes.” He makes a noise that
sounds like something between a groan and a growl.

Ben spins me around and before I
know it he’s really on me—hot and fast, demanding my mouth, grabbing my ass,
pulling my hair. He doesn’t hold back and I don’t either. I let myself go
completely and we’re all over each other like a couple of crazed lunatics. Clothes
are torn, shoes flying, buttons are popping off. There’s a distant part of me
that sees the humor in all this, but the real part of me, the one that matters,
only wants gratification. We barely make it to the bed and when we do, Ben is
already on top of me, pushing my panties aside, his cock pressed hard between
my legs. For a second he stops himself, holds back, and we’re panting, looking
into each other’s eyes.  

“Please Ben...,” I whisper. He
makes a face almost like he’s in pain and then he’s inside of me, filling me,
fucking me. I start to come right away, sobbing loudly, wrapping my legs around
him. It’s so good. That’s all I can think over and over like a mantra in my
head. So good, so good, his smell, his taste, his body pressed tightly into
mine, everything about him feels so good just like I remember. The way he takes
my legs and throws them over his forearms, the way he looks at me so I can see
the expression on his face, the one he wears when he’s on the verge of ecstasy
and then I watch him as he gives into it, falling over the edge of that cliff,
and I’m falling with him.