Page 152 of New York Love Stories: Vol. 1

Fortunately, it’s still early enough that no one is in the area. “What are you doing in here?” I cover the distance to my desk in five steps and then settle into my chair. “And at work, you should call me Mr. Christiansen like everyone else.”

“To your face.”

Although I’ve been trying to avoid looking directly at her because I know my gaze will travel lower than her eyes, that comment has me locked on her. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing. Isn’t that what you like to say?” Her sass is in full swing, and I’m wondering what’s gotten into her.

“Is something wrong, Ms. Jacobs?”

“For future reference,” she starts, her fingertips whitening against the wood of my desk. “Good morning is a nice way to greet someone you’re seeing for the first time that day. Or good afternoon and evening depending on the hour.”

I rock back in my chair, highly entertained by her, even if she forgot whose company this is. “Good morning, Ms. Jacobs.”

“Good morning to you,Mr. Christiansen.” My name leaves her lips like a dirty word she can’t wait to spit. She presents two cups of coffee on the corner of my desk.

“Are we having coffee together?”

“Did you confuse me for Jen?”

Chuckling lightly, I like the fire she’s burning inside this morning. You know what would be good to cool her down?Deep. Pink. Cream.“Is it hot in here?” I ask, tugging at my collar.

“No. It’s seventy-one degrees. Just how you like it.”

“How do you know that? I didn’t even know that.”

She smirks and sits at the edge of the chair in front of me. “Melissa gave me a manual.”

“I could use a copy.”

“Couldn’t we all. Anyway, I brought you coffee to try. The brand served in the break room has a terrible aftertaste, and I also have noticed that a lot of employees are venturing to buy coffee in the lobby, or even more of a time waste—down the street—between two and four PM.” She shakes her head. “Now, don’t get me wrong. Getting out into the sunshine is a good thing. Sometimes we need a break. A little dose of serotonin goes a long way for a productive workday. But that takes them away from the office for about twenty-five minutes. Then they chat as they head back to their desks, which brings it in around forty minutes. According to the manual, a break outside of lunch should only take fifteen to twenty minutes max.” She picks up the cups and sets them in front of me with a big smile as an accompaniment. “A or B?”

I’m still a little stuck on the serotonin benefits, and noticed break times my staff were taking.Laurie was impressed with Juni for a valid reason.

Just as I pick up A to try, she adds, “Be honest if you like it or not. This is just the beginning in the search for the perfect coffee, but I think I found a great contender in the Blue Ridge brand.”

Seeing her proud of her efforts as she waits for me to pick my favorite has me wanting her approval. I don’t know which one is the Blue Ridge brand. I taste the B cup. Now I’m thinking about her tits.Fuck.

I think she’s bigger than a B, full C maybe. “B.” I clear my throat and busy myself with business cards on my desk. I’m such an asshole.

Her hands fly together, clasping in front of her. “Really?”

“Really,” I reply, keeping my eyes in front of me as I shuffle through six cards for window cleaners that Mary left on my desk yesterday. Why am I involved in that decision? Doesn’t the building handle that?

Juni’s still standing in front of me, silent as a mouse. When I dare to look up, she says, “I think the Blue Ridge is a nice upgrade, but not as smooth as I think we deserve. If we can keep employees in the office versus leaving, we can add more minutes of productivity into the day, thus potentially increasing the bottom line.”

Studying the B cup in my hand, my gaze goes to her when she stands. “Wow, and here I just wanted a better-tasting coffee.”

“That too.” She taps my desk and then turns, walking to the door. “Also, Blue Ridge costs 12.48% less than our current brand. I love a good deal.”

I thought the skirt would be a problem. I never saw her rattling off figures as the next weapon she’d use to distract me.She plays unfairly.

Thinking she was about to leave, I say, “Before you go?—”

“Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere just yet.” She turns and paces back, but then she detours to the couch, sitting down. “I’ve been thinking.” Stealing a moment to herself, she glances out the window. Pretty sure I need to expect the unexpected with her after she works through her train of thought.

I click the main TV on but am quick to mute it. Stressing that someone might see us, I ask, “About?” hoping to move this along before more people arrive in the office.

“How this is going to work.”

---