Page 63 of Miracles and Marriage
Zoe straightened and glared at him.
“We most certainly will not! I don’t want the entire world to know what we did. I can’t believe it myself. We need to get back in some kind of order before she opens that door.”
“She’s taking a late lunch.”
His eyes held amusement as he watched Zoe begin to frantically gather hands full of papers, stuffing them in folders and stacking them on his desk.
“Some of those papers there belong in the Sorenson folder,” he said as he knotted his tie.
“Then get them,” she said, scrambling to gather other sheets. She placed the phone on his desk, moved it slightly and then patted it as if willing it to remain in place.
Cal watched bemused. She was going to have the office suspiciously clean if he didn’t stop her.
But he was enjoying the show. Every time she leaned over, her skirt molded her shapely bottom. Her feet were still without shoes, the shimmer of her stockings catching the light. Her hair was disheveled, any lipstick long gone.
He felt a kick in the gut. He’d purposefully kept all thoughts of Zoe at bay while in Europe. He’d needed all his concentration for the job at hand. And he was due to debrief the president in less than an hour. He had to get home, shower, change and make it to the White House in less than sixty minutes.
But he couldn’t move. He was fascinated as she muttered to herself all the while she snatched up papers and stuffed them randomly into waiting folders. He’d have a mess to clean up. But the overpowering desire that had swept through him when she came in had been unexpected.
He’d acted totally out of character. Never before had he made love to someone on a desktop. The window to conceive was not that great to begin with. He’d been gone for days, keeping ahectic pace that never relaxed. As soon as he finished with the president, he planned to sack out for at least twelve hours.
At least he tried to justify the situation.
If he knew Zoe, she hadn’t moved into his place while he’d been gone. Were they back to square one now?
“Where are you staying these days?” he asked as he finished tying his shoes.
“At home, where else?”
“My place.”
The desk began to resemble the way he usually kept it. It’d pass muster with Emily at least. He waited for her to elaborate. She remained silent.
“I thought you were moving into my flat,” he said finally.
“The more I considered it, the more I didn’t like the idea. The current arrangement suits me.”
“The beach cottage or the desk?” he said whimsically.
“The beach cottage. This was an aberration. Do you realize anyone could have walked in on us?”
When her voice rose slightly at the end he realized she was really upset by the aftermath.
Instead of a warm memory, he’d embarrassed her.
“It wasn’t my intention. I’d love to discuss this with you, but really I have to go. Later?” he asked, checking his wristwatch again.
“No, not later. Maybe not ever.”
She jammed her foot into her shoe and stormed to the door.
Just as she reached for the knob, Cal reached out and stopped her, turning her to face him.
“You could have said to stop at any time,” he said quietly.
“I didn’t want to,” she said petulantly.
He threw back his head and roared with laughter. A moment later, he leaned over and brushed his lips against her cheek.
