Uncommon Emotions Part 3

Annoyance slipped into my tone, but I dropped it to make introductions. "Raven Malvolio, this is Chase McCovey.

Chase, Raven's working at the company I'm evaluating right now."

"Nice to meet you." Chase shook her hand.

She gave him a penetrating look, somewhere between surprised and appraising. Her eyes dropped to his hand wrapped around my waist before a kind smile graced her mouth. "Likewise, Chase. Where do you sit, Joslyn?"

"Jos has courtside," Chase said with exasperation. He was insanely jealous of my tickets, which cost one-tenth the amount they charged for his beloved Sonics.

"Oh really? Jos does, eh?" Raven smiled at me. "I've been trying for courtside for a couple of years now, but nothing's ever open."

Inexplicably, the sound of the familiar version of my name from her lips sent a ribbon of heat through me. "You'll have to sit with me at one of the games."

Her eyebrows rose in antic.i.p.ation but Chase stepped over any reply. "Yeah, please. G.o.d knows I don't want to go to all these games."

"I went to enough of your Sonics games, mister, so pipe down," I admonished. He shook his head and pointed toward the Pyramid Ale stand, calling out a goodbye.

30*

"Looks like you have a pseudo fan on your hands." She stared after him.

"His first game. I hadn't planned to bring him, but my usual Storm buddy had to attend his daughter's play tonight instead."

"Is he a true fan?"

"Converted and very loyal, yes, but his daughter has to come first."

"Understandable." Raven nodded approvingly.

"He usually has to miss four or five games every season because of stuff with his kids. Maybe next time you can sit with us? You can't beat the view."

"Thanks, Joslyn. I'll look forward to it." She glanced back at her friends. "I'd better get over there or we'll never make it to our seats before intros."

I was dying to ask where Kelly was, but her affairs were her business. "Yeah, I'll see you tomorrow." I watched her disappear into the crowd and felt the excitement ratchet up a notch at the prospect of sitting with her at a game.

"Where are you going?" Chase twisted back to glare at me in his darkened driveway.

Seeing as I'd just given him what I thought was a goodnight kiss, I a.s.sumed the question was unnecessary.

But now he stood on his porch with an expectant look, wondering why I was headed back to my car. "Home. The dogs need to be fed, and I've got a ton of work to look over."

"You're kidding, right?" A brief snort escaped as he worked through whether or not I was putting one over on him.

"No, I told you I could only make the game tonight."

*31 "You can do your work here." He walked over and pulled me into his arms again. "You've got auto feeders for the dogs; they'll be fine. Come on, baby, stay the night."

Having only ever stayed the entire night with him once, I was a little surprised by his request. Up to this point, we had an understanding: dinner or something out once a week then maybe some horizontal activities back at his place.

Informal, just the way I liked it. "Not tonight. The game was my break; I really can't take any more time away from work."

"Why do you always do this? Every other woman would want to spend the night with her boyfriend."

I bit back what would have been a rude sigh, but d.a.m.n I was tired of this argument. "You know I don't sleep well.

Even if I didn't have all this work to do, I wouldn't want to keep you up."

"I can sleep through anything, baby." He smirked and leaned down to slant his mouth over mine for a possessive kiss. "Let's head inside, you can do some work, then we can get some real business done. I promise it'll be worth your while. I'll make you come so hard you'll be screaming my name tomorrow at work just from the memory." He wiggled his eyebrows.

Considering I'd never once screamed his name in the throes of s.e.x, I doubted he'd get his wish. Not to mention he'd never once made me o.r.g.a.s.m. I imagine that piece of information alone would crush this newly evident, oversized ego. "Unlike you, I can't sleep through anything.

I've got a big day tomorrow, and I can't risk not getting any sleep. I had a great time tonight. Thanks for going to the game with me."

His lips started in on my neck, ignoring my attempt to say goodnight. Hands drifted from my shoulders to squeeze my b.r.e.a.s.t.s like he was working out his aggression on a stress ball. It didn't matter how much I coached him, he never got it right. After a few moments, he finally 32*

recognized that I wouldn't be swayed. "You know, when we're married, you'll have to spend the night. Oh, and no more condoms either. In fact, let's not wait to get married on that one. There's lots of other birth control we can be using."

The off the wall topic would have warranted a long discussion on birth control not being the only necessary protection if I hadn't been so shocked by what he said. "M-married?" I stammered.

"Well, yeah. Isn't that where we're headed here?" He dropped his hands to my waist and leaned back to search my eyes. "I'm not on bended knee right now, but we're in love and that's where couples in love end up."

Christ! I knew there was a chance he might get there eventually, but usually, guys move more slowly than this.

I'd never once returned Chase's declarations of love. So far, he hadn't noticed. Now, he was boosting the pressure level, and I didn't think I could deflect this one.

"We haven't discussed marriage, Chase. I didn't realize you were ready for that."

"I wasn't until I met you, baby, but these past six months have been the best of my life. You're the last thing I think about before I go to sleep at night and the first thing I think of when I wake up. That's true love."

Actually, that's an overused cliche, but I didn't think it would be a good idea to mention that right now. Even I'm not that insensitive. "That's sweet. I just thought it would be a while before we started talking about marriage. I'm not really ready for that. I'm not sure if I ever will be."

"What?" He seized my hips; the motion shaking me in place. "You don't want to marry me?"

I placed my hands on his forearms to keep him from crowding me. His tall, semi annoyed form looked a little daunting. "It's not just you, Chase. I've never really thought of myself as the marrying kind." I tried for a lighter tone. "I thought we had a good thing here. It's been a lot of fun.

Why get so serious so quickly?"

*33 "Because I want to. You've become important to me. I wasn't going to ask so soon, but now that we're discussing it, I have to know. Are you going to marry me or not?"

My jaw dropped open. Didn't he see that I was trying to dissuade him from the idea of marriage? Who the h.e.l.l proposes to someone when she's trying to flee the scene?

Not to mention his slightly desperate and miffed state. Oh yeah, I was living a best selling romance right here. "Can't we talk about this some other time? We haven't given any thought to combining households, lifestyles, finances, or anything else. Marriage takes planning and consideration, we haven't done either."

"I know that I love you and you love me. That's all we need. We're practically married already. Let's make it official."

"No, we're not." I began to wonder if I was in the same relationship he was in. We saw each other once a week and I never stayed the night. That was hardly the equivalent of being married. "We've only known each other for a short time. I don't want to hurt you. I do care about you, but I'm not ready for marriage and neither are you."

"Don't tell me I'm not ready for marriage. I want an answer." He gripped my arms emphatically. "Throw caution to the wind for once. Say yes, baby."

I blew out an audible breath. "This is exactly what I mean. I've asked you not to call me baby at least once every time we get together because it's degradingly infantile. I've tried to tell you that I'm not at the marrying point yet and I might never be, but you're not listening. I can't marry someone who doesn't hear me."

He looked like I'd slapped him. "G.o.d, you're not even considering my feelings. I'm throwing my heart out here and you're stomping all over it."

"Chase, please, I don't mean to." I lifted a hand to touch his cheek. "You're the one pushing here. I have great affection for you."

34*

"Great affection? d.a.m.n, that's cold. Fine, you don't want to marry me?" His expression hardened immediately.

"Forget that. There's no coming back from that, and I don't want to be involved with such a cold b.i.t.c.h. We're through."

The sound I made was somewhere between a cough and a laugh, surprised by his absolute change of manner. He'd forced this and now I'm the bad guy? It's not like I didn't wish I could fall in love with him, or feel something stronger for him, or climax when we had s.e.x, but I couldn't force those things. I was willing to keep trying with him, but he pushed the issue right off a cliff.

"Goodbye, Chase." I knew my voice sounded emotionless, but I couldn't muster the hurt or scorn someone in my position would probably feel. Maybe he was right. Only a cold b.i.t.c.h would date a guy for six months, let him constantly declare his love without reciprocation, and listen to a spontaneous proposal then turn him down flat.

I'm thinking cold b.i.t.c.h might actually be too kind a portrayal for me.

Chapter 6.

T he bothered sigh, issued for the fourth time in ten minutes, ripped through my eardrums like a drill bit. It probably didn't help that we were in the tiny conference room that magnified the sound, but I really wanted to reach across the table and slap the offender's mouth to keep him from continuing his dramatic wisps.

"Let me give you a helpful tip in conducting these interrogations," he informed me with a smirk. "Throw the girl into a river and if she floats, she's not a witch."

Now I wanted to do more than just slap the sigh from him. What a moron. How had he managed to land a job in the finance department? "Not only is your attempt at an historical reference inaccurate, it's inapplicable," I responded coolly.

This was my eighth interview today. As part of my consultations, I spent a couple of weeks interviewing everyone about their positions. Most of the time, I get nervous responses to questions, fumbling attempts to answer intelligently, giddy false exclamations, but sometimes I get these guys. The ones who are p.i.s.sed at me for trying to make any changes to the company. The ones who feel they can give smart a.s.s replies to my questions because they don't think I'm going to help.

36*

"Huh?" He stared dumbly at me, having stopped snickering at his own declaration.

"If she drowns, she's not a witch. That particular form of torture was known as swimming. Tie them up, weight them down, and throw them in a lake, river, or pond. The Inquisitors believed witches would use magic to release their binds and float. Once accused, the best way a woman could prove she wasn't a witch was by drowning. That's what I meant by your statement being inaccurate. It's also inapplicable because this isn't a witch hunt, Kurt. I'm not jealous or fearful of anyone's abilities or intelligence, nor do I want anyone to be jailed, tortured, or killed as a result of any deficiencies I might find."

He snorted, a real snort, before he erupted into an ugly sounding laugh. At least one of us was amused. Through the window behind him, I saw other members of Paul Industries walking to and fro, going about their business day. What I wouldn't do to be out there among them.

"Get off it!" he shouted after he'd finished his cackle.

"This is a witch hunt if I've ever seen one."

"Considering you didn't live in the Middle Ages, you never have," I informed him. "And unlike me, you don't have a history degree, so why not take me at my word? We could spend hours talking about the various other forms of heinous torture that were given innocuous names like pinching, scratching, strappado and perhaps the most grueling, p.r.i.c.king, but we don't have that kind of time." He looked like he was about to continue with his asinine a.n.a.logy, so I cut him off. "I've asked a fairly straightforward question. Describe your typical day."

"I told you I don't have a typical day," he threw back at me.

"You're in finance, not customer service or sales.

Numbers are fairly consistent from day to day. The sooner you answer my question, the sooner you're out of here."

*37 "Oh, please, who are you kidding? We all know you're going to can most of us. Why should I cooperate? Robert was right about you, and I've got nothing to lose."

"Yes, you do, Kurt." Raven stood in the now open doorway, her tone and glance stern enough to make both of us sit up. Apparently, the walls weren't that thick around here because she looked like she'd heard more than Kurt's last dismissal.

"Relax, chief, I'm just kidding around." He blanched in her presence.

Raven strode around the table to stand beside my chair.

I felt honored that she'd taken a figurative and literal stance on my side. Her linen colored pant suit accentuated her frame perfectly. A lavender vest added just the right amount of color under the single b.u.t.ton jacket and set off her amethyst earrings and pendant. She stood ramrod straight beside me, glaring at her senior financial a.n.a.lyst. "It didn't sound like you were kidding. I know my uncle wouldn't appreciate you wasting Ms. Simonini's time, and I don't appreciate you treating her with such disrespect."

"Sorry, but this is a joke, boss." He flicked his hands off the table. "Our department is better equipped to turn this company around than a cut and run con artist."

Raven placed her hands on the table and leaned forward. She looked like she was going to tear his throat out, and the protective stance she'd taken brought about an unexpected swirl of feelings for me. No one ever stood up for me when I was doing my job correctly, not even the owners who hired me. They'd make me fend for myself.

"I'll only cut what's necessary, Kurt. Like if a person can't tell me the importance of the job he's had for," I checked his resume, "three years. Now, if you'll just answer my question, we can get you out of here and back to that work."

"I run financial projections and review ratios all day," he grudgingly admitted.

38*

I hoped he did a lot more than that, but with our lack of rapport and his boss glaring at him, I doubted I'd get much out of him now. "Thank you, Kurt, I appreciate your time."

He probably wouldn't recognize my sarcastic tone. Not only was I good at hiding it, but he wasn't the sharpest tooth on the shark either. He shot out of his seat and didn't bother to glance back before escaping with another sigh. Only one hundred and thirteen more to go.

"I'm sorry about that." Raven perched on the table beside me. "I've had trouble with his att.i.tude in the past, but he does mostly good work."

"No need to apologize. People get threatened when they feel their job security is at risk."

She squeezed my forearm and a zing of surprise traveled up to my brain. People didn't unnecessarily touch me. The whole Lizzie Borden reputation usually kept them at a distance. "You're very gracious. He was incredibly rude to you, and you're excusing his behavior to his boss."

"I had a feeling if I let him keep talking, you might be down one senior financial a.n.a.lyst, am I right? If I let you do the firing around here, it would ruin my reputation."

She laughed conspiratorially. "I never thought there was such a thing, but you might be too good at your job, Ms.

Simonini." Another squeeze of my forearm before she declared, "You shouldn't have had to put up with that. Let me take you to lunch as a reprieve."

Yes! was my immediate reaction, but usually my sensible, detached, professional head prevailed in these matters. I waited several moments for my brain to speak aloud as it normally does to keep things entirely professional. My mind didn't seem to want to disappoint her hopeful expression.

"C'mon, I've always wanted to have lunch with an expert on medieval witch trials," she coaxed with a wide smile.

*39 Enchanting. I didn't need to be into women to recognize this woman was definitely enchanting. "Just how much of that interview did you hear?"

She pushed up from the table and pulled on my arm to join her. "I'll tell you over lunch."