I make sure the first message I send is convoluted enough that she would require an explanation to understand exactly what I was taking about.
It works. Her response comes a few minutes later in the form of several question marks.
I close my office door, turn the lock, and hit the video call button. Ruby answers on the third ring.
“Hey.” Her voice is gravelly and low.
I’m not looking at her, though, I’m looking at the ceiling of her bedroom. “Did I wake you?”
“Yeah, but I needed to get up. What’s up? That text was worse than your handwriting. It made no sense.”
“Sorry about that. I realized with me being back Francesca’s feeding schedule might be a little out of whack. I thought it would be easier to talk about it.”
I hear a drawer open. It’s a little squeaky. “I never thought of that. I’ve just been feeding her like usual. Should I not? Do you want to be the one to do it?”
“Why don’t we keep it the way it is until we have a chance to sit down together?”
“Okay. I can do that.”
I’m still looking at the ceiling and I can hear the patter of feet and a rustle. “What’re you doing?”
“Getting dressed.”
“Did you answer the phone naked?”
There’s motion and suddenly I’m looking at Ruby’s arched brow. “You’re really asking me that?”
I fight the grin that’s trying to spread across my face. “It’s a legitimate question.”
She’s propped the phone up on the dresser, based on my view of the room. “You know, you can just call me without the video component now, like normal people do.”
“It’s a habit. I like seeing you.” And feeling you, like I did in my bed the other night, but I’m getting to that.
“I’m so attractive when I’m half asleep.”
And she’s given me the perfect segue. “Speaking of being half-asleep, do you want to talk about what happened the other night?”
Her gaze shifts away and she busies herself with something outside of my line of view, so I’m only looking at her chin. “I’m sorry, the other night?” Her voice is surprisingly even.
“Are we pretending it didn’t happen?”
“Pretending what didn’t happen?” She’s still not making eye contact.
“You. In my bed.”
Her brow furrows. “You mean while you were away? I told you I fell asleep in there a couple of times. I changed the sheets before you came home. If it was a big deal you should’ve said something.”
“I’m talking about you in my bed with me in it.”
She blinks a couple of times. She’s giving away nothing. A sly smile spreads across her face and her voice drops to a sultry whisper. She drags a finger down the side of her neck. I follow the movement, hoping she’ll go lower, to the breast I cupped not that long ago. “Have you been dreaming about me, Bane?
My eyes snap back up to her face. The answer to that question is yes. For the past several weeks I’ve been dreaming about her nonstop. “You were in my bed the other night.”
She laughs. “Was I now?”
Now it’s my turn to frown. There’s no way I dreamed that. It was far too visceral. A knock at my office door prevents me from asking more questions and verifying that I’m not losing my mind over this woman. Griffin taps his watch through the glass pane. I check the time. Shit. I have a meeting in five minutes. “I have to go.”
“Do I need to feed Francesca?”
“I did it this morning. She just needs playtime.”
“I love playtime.” Her grin is pure sexual evil right before the screen goes blank.
It looks like the video flirting is still on. I have to do some creative rearranging in my pants before I get out of my chair.
I grab my laptop, notepad, and file folder keeping them at waist level. It’s been a long time since I’ve had to shield an issue in my pants.
* * *
I go into the office on Saturday and work from home on Sunday. I get up early, because I’m incapable of sleeping in, and go for a run on the treadmill. By nine I’m showered and there’s still no sign of life from Ruby’s room. The only way I know she’s home is because her shoes are by the door.
I settle in at my computer with a coffee and pull up my research files. The past weeks have been exhausting mentally. I’m beginning to grow accustomed to using my brain for this type of analytic purpose, but it’s been an adjustment. I’m surrounded by pie charts and graphs. Comparative data analysis was never my favorite part of marketing, but I learned how to be good at it.
It’s noon when I hear movement in the kitchen. It’s followed by muttering and the sound of the fridge door opening. I stay where I am, eavesdropping.
I debate whether I should make myself known, when I hear a big yawn and the patter of her feet moving across the floor. “Morning Tiny,” she says, then follows it with, “Morning hotness.”
I think maybe she’s talking to me, but when I swivel in my chair I discover she’s standing in front of the ostentatious picture on my wall of me scoring a goal for last year’s Championship game. That photo was taken about ten minutes before I blew out my knee.
Ruby’s staring up at the image. She takes a sip from her glass. “Why aren’t you shirtless?”
“If I was shirtless no one would know what number I am,” I reply.
Ruby startles with a gasp and the glass slips from her fingers. It hits the floor and shatters at her feet, orange juice and shards forming a dangerous moat around her.
I push out of my chair. “Shit. Sorry. Don’t move.”
Her face is the color of my rugby jersey in the picture, but she does what I ask and stays where she is. I skirt around the mess on the floor and head for the front door, shoving my feet into the first pair of shoes I can find. I return to where Ruby is still standing, a gorgeous, embarrassed jewel in the middle of a glass and orange juice puddle.
“Let’s get you out of the danger zone.” I wrap my hands around her waist and lift her up. She grabs my shoulders, and leans into me, her chest pressing against mine.
“I didn’t mean to scare you.” I set her down, but I’m having difficulty letting go.
“I didn’t realize you were here.” She can’t meet my gaze. Her hands slide down my chest and she pushes back. “Let me get a broom and a mop so I can clean that up.”
“I’ll get it. You’re not walking around without shoes.” I finally release her so I can take care of the problem in the middle of the floor. It’s a good thing Francesca is sleeping in her cage. Well, she’s not sleeping anymore, but at least she’s safe.
Ruby seems to realize I’m right and stays put while I grab towels and a garbage can.
“Can you grab my flip-flops, please?”
I pass them to her and we tackle the mess in silence. Once the juice is cleaned up and the bulk of the glass is managed, Ruby gets out the vacuum cleaner, while I get out the mop and fill a bucket with soapy water.
“I’m so sorry about this. I thought I was alone,” she mumbles, still embarrassed as she winds the cord of the vacuum cleaner back up.
“I figured as much when you started talking to my poster like it was going to answer you.”
She grimaces and gives me a dirty look. “Thanks for just letting that go.”