Читать книгу Visible Lives: - Terrance Dean - Страница 18

I barely make it in the office and my phone is ringing off the hook. Before I can put the phone to my ear I hear Ashley’s voice squealing about Quincy. “Boy, he is fine! You better get him before someone else at GBS gets hold of him. Oh my gosh, the things I would do to him. How much longer is he working for you?”

“Three months.” I hate the thought of it. I even hate saying it.

“And you’re not at least going to try to get him in the bed?”

“That is not my mission. I told you my policy on this.”

“But, Chase, you can’t let him get away. I’m telling you he will go there with you if you stop being such a prude. I saw it in his eyes.”

I pull the phone away from my ear. I don’t want to hear any more.

Yes, he is fine.

Yes, I want him, but I can’t cross that line.

It will be utterly unprofessional.

“Ashley, I’ll call you back later.”

I lean back in my leather chair and look out onto Times Square. Droves of people are rushing through the streets. Cars, taxis, and trucks weave through the concrete maze. I sip my Starbucks caramel latte.

I start biting my bottom lip.

Just as life seems to be leveling for me I get the curve ball.

Correction.

I get the slider, the knuckleball.

First, Quincy, in all his beautiful-glorious-milk-chocolate-studness shows up to torture me for the summer.

Then, Trent calls and says he’s coming home soon and wants to see me.

I take a big gulp of my latte and decide I’ll handle Trent when he gets home. And for the next three months of Quincy’s internship I will stay away from him.

I will have very little contact with Quincy.

I will have my assistant Alicia deal directly with him. She is his supervisor and it is her job to keep him busy.

It’s time to put into effect the covert operation: AVOID QUINCY AT ALL COSTS!

Evade.

Remain busy.

Preoccupied.

Focused.

But that damn Quincy is persistent.

Over the next three weeks he has managed to consistently set up five-, ten-, and fifteen-minute meetings to update me on his learning experience. Each time he sits across from me I notice a gleam in his eyes.

Maybe Ashley is right.

Or, I am seeing what I want to see.

On one occasion while we were talking outside of my office he delicately placed his large hand on the middle of my back. I almost jumped out of my skin.

I also catch him out the corner of my eye staring at me when I walk by his desk. He sits in a small cubicle a few doors outside my office. His long muscular dark body sits erect in front of the computer and I notice his eyes following me.

I find myself wanting to abort my mission and throw caution, danger, and trouble to the wind.

But I won’t.

I can’t.

I refuse.

In a few months he will be gone.

Out of my life.

No temptations.

No distractions.

Lord, give me the strength.