The Total Sum of Two

Chapter 2

You detour straight to the ladies room when you arrive at work.  Looking in the full length mirror, your once professional outfit, now looks exactly like the morning you’ve had, thrashed.  Glancing around, you hike up your skirt and remove your torn nylons.  At least you shaved a few days ago, stubble isn’t too obvious yet, but your dry skin is.  Grabbing lotion from your bag, you slather your legs up, working the ‘moisturizing aloe’ into your skin with a vengeance.  5C’s band-aid now stands out like a sore thumb, the bottom of your skirt not quite covering it.  Knowing you have a client meeting in less than an hour, you tear it off.  The scrape isn’t that bad, you tell yourself.  Gritting your teeth you dab foundation on the small, open sore.  There!  Not bad at all, you grin and slip back into your heels.

 Having just put your things away. your boss walks up.

 “Good news and bad news,” he starts.

 Of course, you think, because it's such a perfect day!  “Bad news,” you reply.

 “The client isn’t coming, he sent his C.F.O...”

 You raise an eyebrow.  “That’s the bad news?”  

 “No, that’s the good news.”  You just look at him with a droll expression, hating how men think they're funny.

 “And...”

 “His man has more degrees than our entire office put together and is some young hotshot from back East.”  He blows out an exasperated sigh.

 “And...”  you encourage, trying to hurry the story along.

 “Oh, yeah, the best part…He’ll be setting up house here with us for the next six months.”

 Lovely, you think, just what you always wanted.  Another brainy, tight-assed accountant in the office.

You raise your eyebrows without comment, waiting for the other shoe to drop.  Your boss just shakes his head, mutters to himself and turns to go back to his office.  Just as you pick up your phone receiver to check messages, the shoe drops.

“He should be here in the next fifteen to thirty minutes, something about a small emergency this morning.”  Under his breath you hear, “Hasn’t even arrived and already acts like he owns the place, arriving when he deems”.

Well this should be interesting.  You watch your normally quiet boss lose his s**t.  You continue retrieving messages when he suddenly spins around, a large smile on his face.

Here it comes… “You will have the honor to show him around when he gets here.  Make sure he knows where to potty, eat his food, and sit like a good boy.  He’ll be using Doug’s old office.  I don’t have time to hold his hand, that’s now your job.”

Before you can even open your mouth to object, he spins again and races back to his office slamming the door.  You glare at his door, looking at the pile of work he’s already put off on you for the day.   I should have known.  What is my energy kinked or knotted?  What is going on with today?!

You jab grumpily at your phone, pretending it's your bosses face.

* * *

You aren’t paying attention to the time or waiting anxiously, like your boss, for the client’s man to arrive.  You have work to do.  Glancing down, to remind yourself who’s books you’re headed to retrieve, you round your desk right into a solid, firm chest.

Automatically taking a step back, you glance up to apologize.  Strong, gentle hands have  hold of your upper arms, keeping you steady.  Those same beautiful, liquid brown eyes are staring down at you.  Not only do they now hold amusement, but a little bit of surprise and shock.  He's not nearly as shocked as you.  If he hadn’t held you up, you would have fallen at his feet, just like an hour earlier.

Closing your mouth, you clear your throat, glance away and pull out of his hold.  Tingles assault your upper arms where his hands just were.  Rubbing your hands over your arms you regain your office composure.

“May I help you?”

Damn that smile, you think as his sexy grin appears.  “I believe I asked that question first.”

You smile and nod, why does every man think they’re funny?  “Yes sir, that was earlier.  Now we are at my place of  work. How may I help you?”  There's a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach.  You already know his next words.

“I’m Gregory Hansforth,” he states, holding his hand out to shake.  “I believe your boss was informed I’d be arriving today?  Sam,”

You take his hand and it's instantly enveloped in heat.  Startled you look from your joined hands back to his face.  His smile is still there, but there is something different now in his eyes.  You try to pull away but he counters, placing his other hand on top.  Not only is your hand trapped, but also your eyes as he determinedly holds your gaze.

“Call me Greg.  And before you ask, yes, I’m with Lycan Construction,. You were expecting me correct?”

“My boss was told you were coming.  I was informed of you about,” breaking from his gaze you look at the clock.  “Ten minutes ago.  I’m to show you around, get you familiar with the office.  If you’ll give me one minute, I need to grab a Ledger book, than I’ll be with you.”

He nods and steps back as you move around him, over to the filing cabinets.  Hefting a large 4” binder from the bottom shelf you set on your desk and turn back to him.

“If you’ll just follow me?”

“Happily.”

You shake your head, you’re brain is implying things unsaid.  You acquaint him with the office, introducing him to the other staff members, and he continues to be polite, courteous; an all around gentleman.  You can't help but watch him while he talks to the clerks.

He can’t be an accountant.  Number one, he’s too hot.  Correction, smoking hot.  Accountants are known to be pudgy, logical, and boring.  Each and every female staff member was hanging on his every word.  Drool practically dripping from their mouths.  You can’t blame them you had the same reaction not even an hour ago in your parking lot.

Memories of his touch and gentle ministrations begin to stir up your earlier yearnings.  He glances over his shoulder at you, as if he knows what you're thinking.  Embarrassed you look away and grab the mail for your department.

His hand clasps your elbow, his voice warm and low in your ear, “Can I help you with something?”

Was lust written all over your face? Damn, he’s going to be here for six months!  You going to have to get a hold of yourself!

Turning to face him you smile, holding up the mail.  “No thank you, I think I can handle this stack.  But thanks for the offer.  Let me show you to your office.”

He’s staring intently into your eyes, too intently for your liking.  You’re not about to bare your soul or let your secret fantasies come out to play. Look all he wants, he’s sorry out of luck.  You close your eyes briefing, re-opening them with your work mask firmly in place, your eyes void of any emotions.

 “Follow me please” you say and guide him back down the hall.

You rap on your boss’s door and poke your head in quickly.  “Mr. Hansforth with Lycan Construction is ready for you.  I’ve given him the tour and he’s tucked safely in his office.”

He looks up from his computer, “Too bad it wasn’t a three hour tour”.

You mentally roll your eyes but smile outwardly at him.  “I’ll be getting back to work now.  I don’t know who you’ve assigned to assist him, so you’ll have to let him know when you speak with him.”

As you’re about to shut the door, he opens his mouth but you’re quicker.  “And it won’t be me.  I have to take care of you, my work, and everything else in this office.” 

With that you close the door sturdily and happily return to your desk.

 The two men are walking back and forth between offices.  Besides a quick distracted glance, you try to pay them no heed.  It's financials time and you have clients waiting for reports.

* * * 

Around 5 o’clock, you’re rolling aching neck muscles and trying to loosen the knots in your shoulders.   Expecting that 5C has gone for the day, you’re surprised to see his office door open and  light on.  His tie loosened, collar button undone and  his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.  The striking sight has you just standing in the doorway for a minute.  His dark hair looks messy, like he’s been aggravatedly running his fingers through it.  Just for a second your fingers itch to touch, to smooth and see if it’s really as soft as it looks.

He looks up, twirling his pen with his fingers.  He doesn't seem surprised to see you standing there.  He looks you up and down, leaning back in his chair.

“I'll have to admit, I like the non-nylon look better.  Why do women wear such torture apparel?  Watching nylons go on looks dreadful,” a devilish smirk then appears.  “However, I will admit taking them off a woman, is rather pleasurable.”

You blush from being caught staring and catching his full intended meaning.  You turn to the printer and his next words halt you.

“You realize that could get infected.” 

You glance down at your knee, the scrape still successfully covered by foundation.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He stands and prowls over to you.  “Looking for more first aid?  I’d be happy to oblige you again.” He leans against the door frame, hands in his pockets, looking like sin itself.  From the other side of the printer you stare, unsure of how to respond, so he continues.

“Why did you remove it?  Had the bleeding stopped?  The make-up has to sting like hell on an open wound.”

Lying to his face you flex your knee, swinging your leg back and forth.  “It feels just fine.  I thought I had a big client coming in today and didn’t feel that he would appreciate the professionalism of my Tasmanian devil band-aid.”

His head tips back in laughter, his smile from ear to ear.  “I don’t know, I think it was rather cute.  I personally don’t think Chad would have minded.”

“Well, my boss isn’t Chad, if that’s who your boss is.”  

He nods, his eyes not wavering from your naked legs. 

“If you’ll excuse me, I have to catch the Fed-Ex man before he leaves.”

Nodding again, he glances down at his watch.  “It’s almost 7, what time does he come by?”

Organizing your papers you head to the copy machine.  “Last pick-up is at 7:15 in case you ever need to send a Fed-Ex.  The pick-up box is just down the hall past the elevators.”

 “Good to know.”  He heads back into the office, than as if he forgot something, turns back.  “Since I’m new around here, do a guy a favor and accompany me to dinner?”

You look up sharply sure you didn’t just hear that.  “Excuse me?”

He steps into the hallway, moving in closer to you.  “I was asking if you would like to join me for dinner.”

When you open your mouth to refuse, your stomach grumbles loudly, accepting his offer on your behalf.  You shake your head and place a hand over your very anxious stomach.

A sly grin reveals itself as he walks back into his office.  “It’s settled.  Let me know when you’re ready to leave.”