Megan Hart - Switch

The only sounds had been our breathing and the squeak of

the chair as his movements rocked me gently in it. Now I

the chair as his movements rocked me gently in it. Now I

heard the low but unmistakable sound of Eric's groan. I felt

it, too, in a puff of hotter air and the wetness of his kiss

higher stil but not high enough.

I looked down at his hunched shoulders and the big hands

pushing up my skirt. At his dark hair, the fringes tickling

my thighs. At the sweep of his lashes and slope of his

forehead, al I could glimpse of his face.

What the fuck was I doing?

One hand found its way to his hair and I lost my fingers in

it, relishing the springy coarseness for only a moment

before I tightened my grasp and puled his head up. His

eyes opened, blurred with lust. His lips, moist, parted as

he focused on my face.

I could not do this. Not like this. Not because I didn't love

him, or because he wasn't my boyfriend, not even because

we hadn't even had an official date. I'd done more with

men I'd never even seen again. And not because I didn't

want his face between my thighs, making me come on his

tongue, because I wanted it so much desire left me light-

headed.

"No," I said in a grinding voice, because this wasn't fair.

Not to him, and not to me.

Eric pushed away from me at once and I released my grip

on his hair. He didn't get to his feet but rocked back on his

heels, his expression stricken. "I'm sorry. Paige. I don't

know what made me think that was okay. I'm sorry."

With shaking hands, I pushed my skirt to cover my knees.

I swalowed against the lump in my throat and tried to

breathe slow and easy so I wouldn't embarrass myself by

fainting or something stupid. I couldn't meet his eyes.

"Paige, I'm so sorry." Eric's voice broke on my name and

he cleared his throat but didn't say anything else.

Would he have gone to his knees for me had he not been

doing as I'd ordered?

The chair screeched on the tiles as I pushed to my feet.

None of my muscles wanted to cooperate. They wanted

me back in that chair, my legs spread wide with Eric's face

between them. I shook my head at myself, but Eric

misunderstood.

"Please…I'm realy not a jerk." He stood but didn't reach

for me. "I shouldn't have done it. But I was…" I found my

voice. "You were what?"

"I was taken by you." His curiously old-fashioned phrasing sounded just right. "I like you, and I thought…I was

stupid. I'm sorry."

I could have said it was okay, but it wasn't, and not for the

reasons he'd have assumed. "I'm going to go now."

He nodded and went at once through the living room to

the front door, which he didn't open. By the time I got to

him I was able to breathe, though my muscles stil felt

loose. Eric stepped aside, giving me plenty of room. We

didn't look at each other.

"Thank you for the ice cream," I said formaly. Stiffly.

"You're welcome."

He held the door open for me, but I didn't look at him as I

went out.

I left no note, no list the next morning. Courtesy of the

schedule he'd sent me, I knew Eric would be off to work

schedule he'd sent me, I knew Eric would be off to work

before I roused myself from bed, but that was just an

excuse. I was awake and could have run down to make

sure he had something to keep him smiling al day.

I hadn't slept much, just tossed and turned, so when the

phone rang I picked it up on the first ring. "Hmm?"

"Paige?"

"Arthur." I sighed. "What did I tel you about caling me so early?"

"But I'm hungry," he whispered. "And Mama won't wake

up."

I yawned. "You know what you can have. You don't need

to wake her up."

"When are you coming over again?"

I hadn't realy thought about it. "I don't know, buddy.

How's school?"

"My teacher says I shouldn't talk so much in class."

"Your teacher is probably right."

"Your teacher is probably right."

A shuffling squawk came through the phone, then a voice.

"Who is this?"

"Mom. It's me."

"Oh. Paige. Hi, honey." Her relief seemed way out of

proportion to Arty's early morning dialing. "What's

wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. Arty caled me."

"What's wrong with him?"

"Nothing that I know of. He cals me a lot on Sunday

mornings."

"He does?" She sighed. "I'm sorry. I'l remind him he's not to use the phone without permission. He's been…wel,

he's been caling Leo."

I yawned again, blinking. "So?"

"Leo doesn't live here anymore," my mom said flatly.

"But he was like a dad to Arthur." I got on one elbow to

"But he was like a dad to Arthur." I got on one elbow to

look at the clock. Gad-awful early. Silence told me I'd

said the wrong thing. "I'm sorry, Mom, but it's true."

"Arthur is not Leo's son," she said after another half

minute. "I haven't said Leo couldn't see him, but he can't

go caling whenever he wants to. He's not my boyfriend.

And he's not Arty's dad."

My mom had had a lot of boyfriends. She hadn't bothered

to tel me al the reasons why she'd broken up with each of

them, though I had been subjected to the ranting and

raving on occasion when one had realy pissed her off.

When I got older, she'd shared more, though I'd never

asked her to. Now I waited for some revelation about

Leo, some reason that had turned her against him, but she

didn't give me one.

"Arty! Get out of the snack drawer! Have some cereal!"

She sounded tired and cranky.

I knew how that felt. "I'm going back to sleep, okay?"

"When are you coming down?"

I told her what I'd told Arty, adding, "I've got stuff going

on."

on."

"We'd like to see you. Me and Arty. You could come for

the weekend, Paige. We could make fudge."

"Mom…"

"Don't say no. Just think about it, okay? We miss you. I

miss you."

There wasn't anything to say that wouldn't hurt her feelings,

so I sighed. "Okay. I'l check my calendar."

"I have to go. Arty just spiled the milk."

"You know what they say," I tried to joke. "Don't cry over it."

"I'm not crying," my mother said in a stone-edged voice I

never heard from her.

Then she hung up.

Chapter 26

The flowers came the next day, a bouquet of thirteen red

roses tied with a thick satin ribbon and adorned with

baby's breath. They were delivered early, too, the card in

my mailbox announcing I had a package at the front desk

tucked in amongst the bils the way not too long ago the

notes had appeared. It set my heart to racing the way

those notes always had, but the flowers sunk my guts to

my shoes.

"Someone has a special friend," Alice said when she

handed me the bouquet with a knowing grin. She leaned

closer. "I knew it wouldn't take you long, hon."

I paused with the flowers in my hand, not daring to hold

them too tight unless there were thorns. "For what?"

"To get one," Alice said. "A man."

Being unable to speak is different than not having words. I

hate not knowing what to say. I goggled at her like an idiot

and puled the flowers closer to my chest. The look on my

face set her back a step, her ready smile fading.

"Pretty flowers." It was the woman from the mailboxes

stopping to pick up her own package. "From your

boyfriend?"

"I don't have a boyfriend," I said shortly for her benefit and Alice's. "I don't know who these are from."

If they shared a look it was behind my back, because I

turned away to pul the card from between the stems. It

was a printed card, not handwritten. Three words.

I'm sorry. Eric.

Austin had given me flowers once or twice, sad and

scraggly bouquets picked up from the grocery store. He'd

picked me flowers, too, from his mother's garden and put

them in a beer mug for me to find on our kitchen table

when I got home from school. These were my first roses.

I didn't have time to put them in my apartment before I

headed off to work, so I took them with me. I didn't have

to worry about getting them into water right away because

each stem was capped in a smal plastic tube, but I

arranged them where I could see them from my chair.

One minute I smiled to look at them. The next, I frowned.

One minute I smiled to look at them. The next, I frowned.

Eric shouldn't be apologizing to me, but it was sweet he

had. And he'd done it without prompting.

"Paige, I—" Paul stopped in his doorway. "Pretty flowers."

"Thanks." A mouse click saved my document, and I

looked up at him. He had a paper in his hand. A list, for

which I held out my hand.

He didn't hand it over. Paul held it in both his hands and

rubbed the paper back and forth in his fingers. He looked

again at my flowers.

"Is there something you need, Paul?"

Paul cleared his throat and folded the list in half, then half

again. "Vivian has asked for a meeting with us today to

talk about the possibilities of your promotion. We're

getting lunch ordered in. At eleven."

He said it like I had a choice, as though he weren't my

boss. He folded the paper again and tucked it into the

pocket of his gray suit pants. Today he wore a pale pink

shirt with a maroon tie and looked very puled together.

"I'm not sure I realy want to talk about a promotion with

"I'm not sure I realy want to talk about a promotion with

Vivian."

Paul nodded and gave me a smal smile. "It can't hurt to

listen to what she has to say, Paige."

He was right, so I nodded and turned my attention back to

the computer. Paul waited a couple seconds, then left me.

I stared for a while at my computer but couldn't make

much sense of the words on the screen.

At ten-fifty, Vivian click-clacked into the office on her

expensive high heels. She carried an immense mug, the

sort you buy at the convenience store and use for refils on

fountain drinks. It looked out of place against her high-

profile suit and jewelry, but she clutched it like she'd kil

anyone who tried to take it.

"Paige." She nodded. After a second she remembered to

smile, too.

"Vivian." I didn't get up from my desk, though I did take

my hands from the keyboard. "Paul said you wanted to

meet at eleven. He's in his office. I'l be in when I'm

finished with this last file."

My smile stretched the corners of my mouth, but I didn't

feel it in my eyes. Vivian took a long, gurgling swig from

her mug and went into Paul's office without more than a

swift rap of her knuckles on the door frame to announce

her arrival. My victory was smal but mighty. She couldn't

complain I wasn't being prompt, but I'd made it clear I

wasn't going to be rushed, either.

I'm not a fan of scary movies, especialy the kind where

the girl knows there's something awful in the basement or

attic but goes in anyway, armed with only her ear-piercing

screams and a wooden spoon or something. Facing Paul's

office felt that stupid to me. I knew what they wanted to

talk about, and I knew I didn't want to discuss it.

I liked working for Paul, even if I was "only" an executive assistant. It wasn't, frankly, al I intended to be. Not

forever. But for now. Moving into another position,

working for another person didn't appeal to me even

though I knew it should, but I didn't want to work for

Vivian Darcy. I didn't like her, and I didn't think she liked

me, which made her sudden interest al the more

disturbing.

Despite al that, at 11:00 a.m. exactly I pushed away from

Despite al that, at 11:00 a.m. exactly I pushed away from

my desk and knocked on Paul's door. They were laughing,

their heads bent together, when I knocked, and they both

looked up. Paul put distance between them at once,