It's Only Temporary

Chapter 22: Just Breathe

December 2012 (18 months earlier)

"I need you," the voice said on the other end of the phone.

"What? Now?"

"I need you," he repeated.

Penny almost wouldn't have recognized his voice, calling her in the middle of the night, if not for the name on her caller ID. He sounded different. Raspy. Like he was breathing the words instead of saying them out loud. I need you. I need you.

Did he mean.... She'd been fast asleep when the phone rang, but the sight of his name had pulled her to instant alertness. And then his voice.... She felt heat flare in the pit of her stomach as the meaning of his words registered. David. Calling in the middle of the night. Not an email. Not drunk. He wanted her. Now. How long had she been waiting for this call?

She'd been disappointed earlier tonight. She'd logged into her work email before she went to bed to see if dpowers80@gmail.com might have had anything new to tell her. She could've sworn she would get something from him tonight. He'd been sneaking glances at her all day long at work today in her new red sweater. He thought he was being discreet about it, but she'd noticed. She'd known when she tried the sweater on in the store that it was perfect - totally appropriate for the office, but suggestive somehow, the way the fine gauge cable-knit ribbing hugged her body.

She could have sworn he'd let his hand linger over hers on the elevator ride after the meeting with Hancock Interactive. He'd been pointing at something in the meeting minutes - the ones she'd botched on purpose, too annoyed to take good notes. She'd been so irritated with him. He'd brought her along to the meeting, and when she tried to take the seat next to him at the conference table, he'd ordered her to go sit in the corner instead. Shunted her away, out of sight. Put her in her place. Just Penny, the lowly office temp. No one who deserved a seat at the table.

Only during the elevator ride afterward did it occur to her that he might have wanted her out of his line of sight for a different reason. His hand had grazed over hers, and she'd held her breath for what felt like hours before he moved it away. And she could've sworn she saw a flush creep up his neck, just above the collar of his crisp white oxford shirt.

She'd been so sure she'd get an email from him tonight. Friday night, after all - and he'd had some stuffy Christmas party to go to, where he would undoubtedly drink too much scotch. She'd waited up past midnight. Even checked her internet connection when she loaded up her inbox and didn't see his Gmail address at the top.

But there was nothing. No new messages.

She'd been irritated again after that - but with herself this time, not him. No new messages. He wasn't thinking about her. Probably met some high-powered female version of himself at the party  tonight. Probably with her right now.

And here she was, blowing her budget on cashmere sweaters she couldn't afford - not to mention anonymous secret-admirer Christmas gifts that she really couldn't afford. And for what? She was just kidding herself, if she thought he actually cared about her office wardrobe.

Honestly, she needed to cut it out. It was all in her head. Ever since he'd given her his Christmas present a few days ago, she'd been entertaining all sorts of wild fantasies.

"Study up!" he'd written on the inside cover of the book. "Maybe I'll take you to Hawaii next year."

She'd only had the book since Monday, and she must have re-read the words at least a hundred times already. He was joking, she kept trying to tell herself. Obviously he was joking. But was there a kernel of truth? Was there something?

"We joke around," he'd written next, "but I hope you know I'm serious when I say how much you mean to me. I consider you much more than just an assistant...."