Page 10 of One Hot Moment

Meant nothing. I'm still adjusting to my new environment, both at work and in the rest of my life. Moving to a new country. Taking on a new job. The stress got to me, that's all. I cannot let one hot moment with Tabitha ruin my career---or hers.

So, I'll do what I've always done. I'll bury myself in work.

And somehow forget that the sexiest woman I've ever met is sitting just outside the door to my office. She's a professional. We'll both pretend that kiss never happened. Our jobs are more important than a brief bout of lust.

I settle onto my posh leather chair and drag the computer keyboard closer. Ah, what am I meant to do now? My job, obviously. I place my fingers on the ergonomic keyboard. My hands lie on the attached padded wrist rest. For several minutes, I fiddle with the position of the keyboard until it feels right. Then, I fiddle with the desk organizer that sits beside the computer, moving the pens around, playing with the sticky note dispenser. I then move on to the metal rack the has three levels, all designed to hold and organize files. I shuffle those around, for no good reason, strictly to...do something.

Bugger me. I have no idea how to start doing my job.

I slump in my chair. And I drum my fingers on the arms. Maybe I should spin the chair round and round like a whirling dervish again.

Get to work, man. You are the boss of an entire department.

No more procrastinating. I sit up straight, adjust my tie, and roll my chair closer to the desk. At random, I choose a folder from the file organizer and flip it open. This is a list of my employees. Good. I'll need this if I have any chance of remembering everyone's name. I grab another folder. This one contains a spreadsheet of recent assessments of risk for the teams in my group. I think I'm meant to proof these and possibly offer comments. But I need to be sure that's what's expected of me.

That means I need to ask Tabitha.

I pick up my desk phone and press the button for her extension.

"What can I do for you, Spencer?"

"Uh, well..." I give myself a mental slap. "I was wondering if I'm supposed to critique this list of recent risk assessments."

"That's up to you, Mr. Boss Man. Take a look and see if you feel it's necessary to offer your critique."

She's right, of course. "Sorry. I shouldn't have bothered you."

"I get paid to be bothered." She hesitates. "It's none of my business, but if you're still feeling anxious..."

"Any and all suggestions are appreciated."

"Then I recommend you call a friend or family member back home."

She is the cleverest woman. I might have thought of what she just suggested if I hadn't been tied up in knots about starting my new position here at Bramson Feigenbaum. "Thank you, Tabitha. I'll ring someone back home. That was a brilliant idea."

Her laughter tickles my eardrums even through the phone line. "I'm no Einstein. It's common sense, that's all."

I don't seem to have much of that today. "Goodbye, Tabitha. I'm grateful for your advice."

Then I hang up and dial a number I have programmed into my mobile. It rings five times before a familiar voice answers.

"Miss me already, Spencer?"

"Yes, Kenny, I can't live without you."

"Don't call me Kenny. I've told you again and again that I prefer Kendall."

I already feel myself relaxing, just from a ten-second conversation. "You can't expect me to change a lifetime's habit in a few months. At home, you were always Kenny. I'll try to remember your new preference for using the uptight version of your name. Of course, you could revert to your actual first name and start calling yourself Jolly."

"Never speak that word again."

"You prefer the full version, then. Glad to hear it, Jolyon."

Kendall is my brother's middle name, and he prefers it over his real first name. I can understand why. Mum let Dad choose a name for their first-born child, and Kendall has never forgiven him for christening my brother Jolyon Kendall Halfenaked.

"I thought Rachelle had loosened you up," I tell my brother. "Now that everyone knows you were an exotic dancer once upon a time, you should be less uptight. For pity's sake, you organized a male revue show at Sommerleigh House for Halloween last year. I heard that you went completely nude for the finale."

"Could we not speak of that anymore? It was a one-off event."

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