“No wonder you look the way you do,” I remarked as I buttered a piece of toast.
“What? This?” she asked as she picked a bit off the muffin and popped it in her mouth.
“Yes. I thought we were having breakfast. I feel like a glutton, sitting across from you.”
Sarah laughed. “You said last night you wanted to know more about me. Here’s something I wouldn’t tell just anyone. I made French toast for the kids this morning before they left on the school bus. I make damn good French toast. I had some nice, crisp bacon with it. It’s okay, I did my miles on the treadmill after I got home last night.”
“I see you wore slacks today.”
“Yeah. That creep doesn’t need to be looking at my legs like he did,” she said.
“You’ll break his heart,” I teased.
“Do I look okay in this outfit, Don?”
I looked at her between sips of my orange juice. I wanted to tell her that she would probably look great even in a burka, but instead, I said, “I think you look just fine. I like what you did with your hair. If you were going for business professional, I’d say you pulled it off.”
“I wanted to look a little more severe today, you know, hair tied back, ready to start digging. Maybe these will help.” She fumbled in her bag, pulled out a pair of reading glasses, and perched them far down on her nose. “I decided to give the eyes a rest from contact lenses today. I have my prescription sunglasses for driving and these for work.”
The glasses certainly completed the look, if she wanted to resemble the librarian that gave all the guys wood in high school. “Perfect,” I deadpanned.
We worked non-stop that day, eating delivered pizza in the conference room. It was almost six o’clock when Owens appeared in the doorway. “Should I start another small project? Or are you two about ready to call it a day?” he asked, still wearing that painted-on, cheerful, lecherous smile.
“Are you at a good stopping point, Ms. Blevins?” I asked, saving my file and closing my laptop.
There was something in her eyes when she spoke. “Might as well,” she replied. She packed up her materials.
As Owens ushered us through the door, he said, “Lovely outfit, Ms. Blevins. Is it a designer I should know? Even these loose, non-tailored styles look good on a body like yours. Maybe it’s the sweater.”
Sarah gathered herself to her impressive full height and gave him an icy stare. “Clearance racks at the mall last year, if you must know. You are starting to be inappropriate, Mr. Owens. Good day.” She strode off in the direction of the car.
“Owens, think about the laws we have these days about harassment, and the court cases. You already have enough problems. I’ll let your secretary know when we’ll be back,” I said, as I turned to catch up to Sarah.
She threw herself in the car as soon as I unlocked it, and already had her seat-belt on by the time I opened my door.
“Get me out of here.”
“Sarah, that bastar….” I began.
“Drive, please. I’d like to have a drink. And then I’ll buy you as many as you want. I’m going to have to drive home. You just have to get on the elevator.”
wpDiscuz