Page 5 of Coming Around Again

NAYA

Desmond.

My stomach flips over, and completely unbidden, my breasts tighten inside my bra. My lower belly fills with heat, and I can even feel a small rush of wetness between my thighs.

Desmond. Here at my new job. Clearly a member of upper-level management, and just as clearly unhappy with me.

And so gorgeous, still. Dark hair and blue eyes, a bit of scruff on his face that would tease my hands, it I touched it. It’s still a face that laughs. He’s still tall and muscular. He’s still so beautiful that I have a moment of intense grief and guilt at losing him.

I remind myself that he has no right to be angry at me. Was it my fault that he ghosted me eleven years ago? Was it my fault that he never called me, never reached out on social media, until last year? Was it my fault that he made me love him and then left me?

It isn’t my fault.

But that doesn’t explain why he’s glaring at me like I’ve just stomped a whole litter of puppies or done something else so despicable that I’ve become a pariah, unworthy of even indifference. It’s not my fault.

The meeting starts, and Michelle tugs me toward a chair. I sit. I focus on the meeting and the feeling in the room. I pull up my notes app and type into it.

I don’t think about Desmond.

I don’t think about the taste of his mouth. The feeling of being held against his chest. The way he’d kneel between my thighs and lift my hips toward his face for sweet, naughty secret kisses. The sensation of being closer than close, of sharing our bodies.

I do not think about those things.

Instead, I watch how people in the room respond to each other, engaged and mentally present.

Desmond doesn’t speak in the meeting. He takes notes as well, I notice out of the corner of my eye. Someone asks him a question about some data thing, and he says he’ll need help with it. Michelle speaks up to say that I’ll be taking over the analysis for that project, and at that point, Pete has me stand and introduce myself to the rest of the room.

I don’t let my eyes meet Des’s. I sit back down. I take more notes.

Until the meeting is suddenly over, and I see Desmond hanging back. Waiting for me? Or waiting for me to leave?

“Come and meet people,” Michelle says. I let her tow me around and introduce me, but I know I won’t remember the names later. The handsome lady with gray hair and a sleek navy sheath dress is Carla Brickell, HR Director. I met her earlier in the day while doing employment paperwork. The rest? A blur.

Des is still standing at the conference table, lips pressed together, not talking to anyone. “And this is Desmond O’Brien. Des, this is Naya Miller. She’ll be taking over the data analysis, and I’m sure will be presenting you with some conclusions.”

“Happy to help,” I say. He doesn’t offer a handshake, and neither do I.

I’m too busy trying not to remember things.

“Desmond’s mother was a Brickell before she married Sean O’Brien, our VP in charge of sales,” Michelle goes on, “so he’s a stockholder as well. But don’t worry.” She pats my arm. “All the family members involved in operations are highly qualified. GoPlay has been increasing market share and profits steadily over the past five years.”

“Right,” Des says, in a tight voice. “No repeats of eleven years ago, when there was financial mismanagement.” He nods firmly.

He’d told me about his grandfather and great-uncle and their money problems. That was the reason he and his mother and sister were spending the summer at Love Lake. His father was back in Pittsburgh, trying to handle the fallout and find investor backing, and he’d wanted his family away from the mess.

However, Desmond had never mentioned the company’s name, and—overly impressed by the idea of one family owning a conglomeration of stores—I’d never thought to ask.

So that’s why the company moved from Pittsburgh to Charlotte. The official website “About Us” history had sort of glided over the reasons, and no wonder.

He looks into my eyes, and I feel his gaze like a touch deep inside me.

I want to run away. I want to grab him and kiss him like he never left me. I want…I don’t know what I want.

Yes, I do. I want to be a success at my job. So I find some steel in my spine and stand straighter. “When I was researching the company before my interview, I only went as deep as the top-level executives. I didn’t connect it with you.”

“We rushed her, to some extent,” Michelle puts in. She’s watching me and Des like she’s at a tennis match, her eyes bouncing from him to me and back again.

“Well, we desperately need an analyst,” Desmond says, and then finally, he offers his hand. “Glad to have you aboard, Naya.”

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