Nothing to Lose (16 page)

“I think that's it,” he said.

“I have others,” she offered, taking a few more sips.

After a successful dinner of flirtation and teasing gazes, they made it all the way through the chocolate cream pie, which Billie admitted she didn't actually make, but rather had picked up from the German bakery three blocks away.

As far as Billie was concerned, things were going great—although she had a feeling that she'd had a lot more wine than he had. After all, this was her third glass, and it was only one bottle. She hadn't kept track. She was just enjoying herself too much.

She'd spent a lot of time talking about work, but Michael shared more of himself with her. He talked about growing up poor in Atlanta and the struggles he had staying out of trouble. He reminded her a lot of herself and the girls, only they'd had each other. Michael was alone in his fight to get out of the projects unscathed. He'd had no friends because he wasn't “down,” as he phrased it. The more she found out about him, the more she admired him.

Michael looked prepared to respond to her offer of more wine, when Billie's phone, over on the kitchen counter, suddenly rang.

He looked toward it before turning back to her. “It's been ringing a lot.”

“Ignore it.” She waved her hand dismissively. “It's probably just Porter. He's such a sore loser.”

“So you've said.” He placed the napkin from his lap onto the table.

Michael looked down and Billie thought she'd heard him whisper something under his breath, but he smiled when he looked back up at her.

“You should have seen me, Michael.” She slid her chair closer to his at the dining-room table. “I didn't stutter or hesitate. I usually do with him, because I let him irk me so much, but this morning—”

“You went right back at him,” Michael said. “You've told me . . . a few times.”

She realized from the expression on his face that he wasn't pleased. It took her only a second to understand why.

“Oh, my God,” she said in a gasp. “Have I been talking about my ex too much?”

“You've certainly had a lot to say about him tonight.” Michael wiped at his lap, a gesture that conveyed his discomfort with the topic. “I think I've had my fill of Porter talk, if you don't mind.”

“I'm sorry.” Billie felt awful. She hadn't been paying attention at all. “What do you want to talk about?”

“I want to talk about you.”

“Aside from being very rude to my date,” she said, standing up from her chair, “there isn't much I haven't told you.”

She leaned down and kissed him on the forehead, reaching out and taking his hand. She pulled at him, heading for the living room. Slowly he smiled and stood, allowing her to lead him to the sofa.

“This is certainly more like it,” he said.

Billie pointed to the sofa. “Sit.”

“You're pretty bossy.” He did as he was told. “I like it.”

“I'm kind of liking it too.” She sat next to him, leaning against him.

He wrapped his arm around her. “What are you planning to order me to do next?”

She didn't hesitate to show him.

Leaning in closer, her lips pressed against his softly as she waited for his response. She didn't have to wait long. She felt his lips push against hers and his arms quickly wrap around her. She felt an intense flare of desire as the kiss deepened and his grip tightened. She arched her back in response to his hold on her and their chests pressed against each other.

Her pulse was pounding so hard—it felt like a jet engine was inside her as she felt the tip of his tongue. She responded, opening her mouth just a little. The touch of his tongue against hers was electrifying and sent blood surging through her entire body. Her arms reached out to him and gripped the back of his head, pulling him to her because she wanted him closer.

They fell back on the sofa. His kiss deepened. As their tongues explored each other, their hands did the same. Billie felt every place that he touched go on fire. When his hand slid up her blouse and pressed against her belly, she felt a scorching heat that reached so deep within her that she let out a quiet moan.

Then suddenly Billie felt his hand leave her and he pulled away. His lips left hers and his arms released her.

“What's wrong?” she asked, completely out of breath.

He was looking down at her, his eyes smoky and full of desire. He frowned, seeming tortured, making her reach out to touch his cheek.

“It's okay,” she whispered. “I want you.”

He shook his head, lifting up until he was sitting down. Awkwardly and embarrassed, Billie sat up too, looking at him. She placed her hands on his thigh, still aching to feel him.

“I think we should call it a night,” he said, his tone filled with uncertainty.

“Why?” she asked.

She could tell from his voice that he didn't want to leave her. So, why was he saying that? He looked at her and she could see the regret in his eyes. He wanted her—that was clear. What was going on?

“I want you too.” He shook his head. “More than you can know, but I feel like there's something . . . no, someone between us.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“The man you've spent more than half this evening talking about.”

Had she really talked about him that much? Why would she do that? She had this incredible guy she wanted more than she'd wanted a man since she could remember and she completely turned him off with ex-drama.

“I'm sorry,” she said. “I didn't do it on purpose.”

“I don't think you even noticed,” he said. “The look in your eyes when you went over that conference call, all three times, and then telling me how you felt watching him walk away from your front door earlier, looking so defeated. Your eyes lit up.”

She was shaking her head. “It's complicated, Michael. I've been on the receiving end for so long, it just . . . Look, Porter is gone. He's not in this room now. It's just me and you.”

Michael smiled at her as he stood up. “Nah, Billie. He's been here all night and he's still here. At least for me, he is.”

She got up from the sofa; her head was still feeling a little dizzy. “I've offended you and I'm sorry.”

“You haven't offended me.” He sighed. “I know you didn't do it on purpose. I get it. Working with your ex can't be easy, but you've got to let him go when you leave the office. At the least, you've got to let him go when you're with me.”

Damn Porter, finding a way to ruin things for me, no matter what.
Billie felt her anger at him rising.
I'm going to make him pay for this,
she thought. He had to know he wasn't allowed anywhere near her home.

Michael reached down and placed his fingers gently at her chin, lifting her face to his. He smiled at her before leaning down and kissing her lips gently.

“Billie,” he whispered, his face still inches from hers, “I'm not mad at you. I don't think I could be mad at this beautiful face, even if I wanted to be.”

“But I ruined everything,” she said, pouting.

“Aside from all the talk about Porter, the night was great.” He lowered his hand, but his eyes still held hers. “You're an amazing woman and the way you look tonight . . . The truth is, I've wanted to make love to you since—damn, girl—since I met you, if I'm being honest. I just need to know I'm the only man on your mind when I do.”

 

Even though she'd come close to getting caught, Sherise was feeling good after getting away with what she'd done tonight. It put her plan in action. It was risky as hell, but she thrived off that. She was feeling like her old self. Being vulnerable was for losers.

However, when she arrived home at Justin's frantic request, all sense of power and rejuvenation evaporated. Even before she saw Justin, Sherise got a very, very bad feeling. The second she opened the door, the house was very dimly lit and quiet.

Justin was sitting on the living-room sofa. His head had been in his hands. When she entered, he looked up at her. He looked awful, like he'd just lost someone he loved.

“Where's my baby?” she asked, unable to think of anything before making sure her baby was okay.

“She's upstairs, sleeping.”

Sherise jumped, not realizing there was another person in the room. She turned around to find Jacob Swift, Justin's law school friend and his lawyer, standing at the stairwell, looking very somber. He was a tall, large man in his midthirties, with unruly dark curls, a beard, and a thoughtful, intelligent face.

“Jacob?” Sherise looked back at Justin, who fell back on the sofa, looking exhausted. “What is he . . . What are you doing here?”

“This,” Jacob said, handing her a piece of paper, which looked very official. “It's from human resources at the firm.”

Sherise cautiously took a few steps toward Jacob and accepted the paper. She looked at it for a second, but she didn't understand anything. She turned to Justin, who was looking at her with the look of a pitiful dog.

“It's Elena,” Justin said. “She's filed a claim of sexual harassment.”

Sherise took a quick, sharp breath. Her head felt like it was decompressing and she was feeling dizzy. She grabbed the edge of the closest chair and sat down. She thought she heard Jacob say something, but she couldn't decipher it. She looked down at the paper in front of her and it could have been written in Russian. It made no difference to her. She looked back at Justin.

“Wait. . . . What?”

“She's threatening to sue me and the firm,” Justin clarified. “That bitch is saying I sexually harassed her!”

“What did you—”

“What?” Justin shot up from his seat. “Were you about to ask me, what did I do?”

“No,” she assured him, shaking her head vigorously now. “No, I just . . . I wanted to know.”

“I didn't do this, Sherise!” Justin proclaimed loudly. “Jesus Christ, I can't believe you would—”

“I believe you,” she pleaded. “Please, Justin . . . I do.”

He looked down at her, disappointment and hurt on his face. “For a second, you seemed like you didn't. Damn it, Sherise, do you think I would ever do something like that?”

“No,” she said. “Of course not. You're too professional to make this type of—”

“ ‘Too professional'?” Justin looked completely astonished. “How about I'm not the kind of person to do this under any circumstance, professional or not?”

Sherise didn't know what to say. He was confused, scared, and angry. She could tell that she wasn't going to be able to make him feel better right now. She turned to Jacob, who remained where he'd been standing.

“Can she do this?” she asked.

Jacob nodded. “She's claiming several instances in the last three months where Justin said or did something in a sexual manner, despite her asking him not to, or in order to make her feel uncomfortable. She claims to have a witness, and—”

“A witness?”
Sherise asked.

“Fucking Dennis Stevens,” Justin said. “She says he'll say that he saw me grab her ass and her looking very upset about it. He's gonna claim that he talked to me about it, like a month ago, so it seems like I got a warning and didn't heed it.”

“It's no-good,” Sherise said. “Dennis was passed over by Justin for the promotion to principal almost two years ago, right?”

Justin nodded. “He was pissed that I was given the Okun Industries project.”

“What was that about?” Jacob asked.

“Okun was a client and we were lobbying the finance committee to introduce a bill that . . . Look, that part is boring. What matters is Dennis started the project, but he got in trouble over his drinking problems, so it was handed to me.”

“See,” Sherise argued. “He's bitter. He's not reliable.”

“Don't worry about that,” Jacob said, retrieving the paper from Sherise. “I'll do my job. He's a horrible witness for several reasons.”

“We'll bring them all up,” Justin said.

“I'm gonna leave,” Jacob said. “I need to get to work on getting this claim shot down immediately. Justin, you and Sherise need to discuss the . . . immediate consequences.”

“What ‘immediate consequences'?” Sherise asked. “Is this public? Are people going to know about this?”

“You mean Northman?” Justin asked sarcastically.

“No,” she said, realizing what he was insinuating. She honestly hadn't thought of her job, just her family's reputation in general. “Not for me, but for all of us.
D.C.
is a rumor mill and these types of things can—”

“Sherise.” Justin stopped her. “That's not my concern right now. The immediate consequence that Jacob is talking about is my job. They've asked me to take a leave of absence until this gets resolved.”

“They can't do that!” Sherise shot up from her chair. “It's just a complaint. That's not the protocol. They can't punish you without any proof. Jacob, this isn't legal, is it?”

“I will fight this.” Jacob was already heading for the front door. “They can't demand he take a leave, based solely on an uninvestigated claim, but they can ask for propriety's sake. I'll call you by noon tomorrow with my progress.”

“Thanks, Jacob.” Justin waved to him before turning and heading to the window that overlooked the dimly lit Georgetown streets.

“I'll see myself out,” Jacob said.

Sherise turned to Justin, walking over to him. She placed her hand on his shoulder and caressed him.