The Reality of You (27 page)

Chapter 31

Monday
morning, after a long and grueling workout that should have emptied my mind, my
heart felt heavy and my brain irate as I took the elevator to the basement.
Shock lingered too. My emotions had been on a long roller coaster the last few
weeks. Two weekends ago, I had been on a high, teetering toward love. This past
weekend had been a dark, deep plunge. Yet I was moving on, holding my head up
high, and all that crap.

Okay, I felt
miserable, despondent, and broken inside, but life rolls on.

And I was still
quite angry.

The morning dragged
on tamely. I fixed a database, ran a test run, and started file-share backups
for two different companies. Lunch took forever to come. Although Gracie wore
black, she’d lost the wig and pale makeup and toned down her black eyes a bit.
I didn’t notice Ray checking her out, but there were a few other computer geeks
checking her out in between their bites of tuna fish or pastrami on rye. I had
to hide a slight grin behind my bottled water as she blushed when one of them
came over and began small talk with us. I’d been sitting with Gracie because no
one—I mean no one—ever sat at our table.

Voodoo was scary,
especially in the imagination.

They were in a
discussion about Comic-Con—go figure—when my phone rang. I stared at the
unknown local number with trepidation. Then I thought,
Screw that
. I wasn’t going to be scared of answering my own phone
because of Reese.

I picked it up,
pressed answer, and whipped out a, “Hello.”

“Hello, is this
Naomi Porter?”

“Yes,” I said,
trying to figure out the unfamiliar male voice.

“Hi, I’m Ted Morris,
the athletic director at Braden College,
and I’d like to set up an interview this week for the women’s assistant
soccer coaching position.”

“This week?” I
squeaked. Holy crap! With the huge fallout, I’d completely forgotten about
Reese’s setting me up for an interview. And now, more than ever, the whole
thing felt wrong.

“Yes, this week.
Will Wednesday or Thursday work for you?”

My head spinning, I
stood up and walked to the far corner of the breakroom. “Um, I don’t think I
can get out of work this week.” I was being evasive on purpose.

“Well, we’re
conducting interviews this week.”

“I’m sorry. Things
are busy this week at work.”

“We need to make a
decision by the beginning of
next
week.”

“I’m sorry,” I said
lamely, refusing to flat-out say that I didn’t want an interview. Strangely,
and stupidly, it felt like if I said no it would be the last nail in the coffin
between Reese and me. And though there was no future for us, I couldn’t pound
that last nail in.

“All right,” he
said, obviously confused with my evasiveness. “If you can come in this week,
please give me a call. You’ll also need a letter of reference from a former
coach and your transcripts.”

I didn’t need
anything because I wasn’t going. “Yeah, okay.”

“Have a good day,
Ms. Porter.”

“You too,” I said,
and with that, he hung up. I leaned on the wall, all things Reese back to the
forefront of my mind.

After I stood
against the wall for several minutes, Gracie came over, asking me if I was
okay. Nodding, I smiled weakly, complimented her hair again, and went to the
table to grab my lunch bag. Time to get lost in the grind of backing up share
files.

A few hours later, I
was absorbed in the monotony of computer work when Smith, the boss, showed up
in my cubicle. He wanted me to take a file folder to suite A, on the thirtieth
floor. Confused—we
had
a gopher who
ran things—I took the file. Then as he walked away, it hit me. The suite had to
be Reese’s.

I contemplated
handing the file off to the gopher, but I was positive that Reese had requested
me
to bring it. That he’d stoop to
such tactics had my teeth grinding together. Fine, I’d deliver the file, along
with a piece of my mind.

Kara better find me
a new job soon.

Like tomorrow.

By the time the
elevator dinged for the thirtieth floor, I was practically spitting venom at
the audacity of Reese.

The attractive
secretary behind the desk at the front of elegant suite A examined me like I
was a homeless person off the street. Yeah, dressed in a faded khaki skirt and
a plain white, wrinkled blouse, I hadn’t put much effort into my wardrobe,
hair, or makeup this morning after dragging my sorry ass out of bed.

I lifted the folder.
“I’m here to drop this off.”

Her eyes bugged out
at the file. “Wait,” she said, standing and pointing down the long hall behind
her. “You need to take that to the end office.”

“Didn’t see that
coming,” I mumbled, marching past her.

Not bothering to
knock, I whipped the door open. Reese’s startled face was precious, but as
emotion filled his expression, the sight of him looking raw and desperate was
agony. I tried not to let the look on his face sway me as I marched over to his
desk and dropped the file in the center.

Hands on my hips, I
let my little speech loose. “I assumed the man you pretended to be wouldn’t use
his clout to force me to listen to your excuses. But you were never that man,
were you? The respect-o-meter has dipped far, far below zero, and nothing you
say will bring it out of the negatives.” I whipped around toward the door. Just
as I got to it, it shut in my face. “Let me out,” I said lowly, keeping my eyes
on the door and trying to ignore his body inches behind me.

“I didn’t bring you
up here to listen to my
excuses
.” His
hand remained on the door. “I brought you up here to talk about you brushing
off Ted Morris this afternoon.”

I whipped back
around. “How the hell do you know that?”

His expression was
calm, almost cold. “It doesn’t matter. But whatever is between us shouldn’t
jeopardize your future.”

“There. Is. Nothing.
Between. Us,” I spit out.

He shook his head
and ran a hand through his hair before sighing. “I’m not going there.” When his
gaze came back to mine, I caught a gleam of pleading. “Just go to the
interview. Don’t let your anger at me ruin this chance for you.”

His look shattered
something inside me, and though I tried to halt the cascade, like a dam, memory
after memory broke through my resolve. Reese smiling. Reese gently touching me.
Reese laughing at one of my stupid jokes. Reese’s face hard with desire. Reese
holding my hand. Reese’s awful Transylvanian accent. Reese. Reese. Reese. Wave
after wave hit me. Oh, hell, I had to get out of here before I broke down in
front of him.

I drew in a deep
breath then snapped, “Can I go now?”

He leaned closer,
his brown-and-green gaze on my face, on my lips.

“Please open the
door,” I said softly, unable to raise my voice in fear that I’d start gushing
like Old Faithful if I let any emotion out. Wanting to escape the power of his
gaze, I turned my head, not really seeing the view of skyscrapers out the huge
window. If he touched me, I
would
break.

We stood like this
for quite some time, the silence deafening, until I sensed him come closer, his
nose near my neck, his lips softly dragging across my skin.

Part of me
shuddered, holding in a sob. Another part of me melted at his touch, craved it
like an addict.

“Naomi,” he said in
a distraught tone that tugged at my heart.

Unable to resist the
plea in his voice, I turned,
my
lips
brushing his forehead. His cologne invaded my senses, brought on lustful
memories that I had once planned on treasuring in my daydreams. Those lustful
memories tempted me, helped me forget, and turned me into pure want.

Palpable longing
crackled in the air.

We both shifted, and
for one quick second, our eyes met before both him and his lips were on me,
pressing me into the back of the door. My hands instinctively found the back of
his neck. My fingers curled into his hair as his mouth devoured mine. The kiss
was desperate and frantic, as if we both knew this was the end.

The taste of him,
the sensation of him against me, felt so right, even though my brain tried to
tell me this was wrong. Giving in to want, I became brainless, filled with lust
and desperation the moment he’d touched me.

As our mouths molded
and sucked and bit, the kiss shifted in intensity and his hands drew up
fistfuls of my skirt, brushing knuckles against my thighs and creating the fire
he always inspired. When his hand cupped me between the legs, my fingers went
to his belt, and in seconds, my hands were holding him, stroking him, and
trying to rememorize the feel of him. He’d been tugging at my underwear, but
with my stroking hands spurring him on, he tore the small garment in two.

Without breaking the
desperate kiss, he lifted me up, shoving me against the door. With a mind of
their own, my legs went around his waist. His hands gripped my hips. Then his
mouth paused on mine in an open gasp as he entered me in one swift surge of
heat.
 

Yes!
my body sang.

The union had both
of us trembling. He buried his face into my neck. Nothing existed except the
two of us and the connection between our bodies as he began moving, repeating
my name over and over again against the skin of my throat with each thrust.
Suspended in a bubble of Reese sensations, I held on to his shoulders in an
almost death grip as the mindless rocking and gripping and gasping seemed to go
on forever yet ended far too soon with my shuddering orgasm quickly followed by
his.

For a long moment,
we were both still, my legs holding him, his fingers digging into my hips.
Waking from the haze of lust, I suddenly felt like bawling. I pushed at his
chest, and mercifully, he stepped away. Without looking at him, I quickly
snagged my ruined underwear from the floor then stuffed them into my pocket. A
myriad of emotions were coiling in me hard and fast. I became determined to
control them. At least in his presence. Definitely while he did up his pants.

Once his belt was
buckled, my gaze on his gray tie, I said, “Are we done then?”

His hand pressed on
the door and he leaned over me again. “Naomi—”

“Can you please open
the door?” I asked in a tight tone.

“No. We need to talk
about—”

“Just open the
door,” I hissed, seriously and truly about to break down. “Now,” I added
loudly. I had ridiculously believed that I could handle this new heartbreak. I
couldn’t. It was worse than all the others combined.

“This is not over.”
His voice sounded raw, his tone heated.

“Open the door!” I
yelled, hoping he’d concede since we were in his office suite.

I felt his silent
anger, but finally, thankfully, he straightened up, removing his hand from the
door, allowing me to step to the side.

“Go to the
interview, Naomi,” he demanded in a steely timbre before he opened the door.

Refusing to look at
him, I fled down the hall and to the elevator. Inside the elevator packed with
people, I kept it together by force of will. I rushed to the public bathrooms
on the lobby floor. Inside, I found a stall in the back, shut the door, and
lost it.

Leaning on the cool metal
door, I cried like an idiot. I was mortified that I hadn’t been able to resist
him. I was broken that it was truly over. And in the aftermath, all I could
think of was that I’d never be able to hold him again.

I was a stupid,
stupid, desperate woman.

No wonder I had been
heartlessly dumped by every man in the past, but this time,
I
would walk away. I just needed to stay away from Reese. Kara
needed to find me a job like
now
.
Also, she had been right, so damn right. Good sex did not mean some lofty romantic
connection.

Eyes dry, I went and
rinsed my face several times, drew in several deep breaths, and paced the
length of the thankfully empty bathroom three times before heading to the
elevator that led to the basement.

When the elevator
didn’t come fast enough, I took the stairs. With each step down, away from
Reese, my resolve to move on hardened my heart, and I grew peeved once again,
which beat the heartache I’d experienced in the bathroom by miles. Evidently,
the dickhead was still trying to meddle in my life. By the time I got to the
basement level, I was furious.

Instead of going to
my cubicle, I marched to Gracie’s office and shut her door. “You’re not going
to believe this.”

Her lips thinned as
I went into a tirade. My hands moved faster than
my mouth while I explained what Reese had done. Well, except for
the sex. That was going in the vault and
never
coming out.

Finished, I leaned
on her wall. “Can you believe him?”

Gracie shook her
head.

“I know. He’s such—”

“No. I can’t believe
you
.”