Ororo darted out of the elevator at a fast clip, clutching a manila folder against her chest. Yukio caught her eye as she stepped out of the women’s rest room into the hall.
“Where’s the fire?”
“There’s been a mixup,” she huffed. She thought better of hurrying away and whipped around mid-step. “Where’s James?”
“Logan? He has plans today. He’s gonna be out of the office.”
“Oh, no he doesn’t,” Ororo snapped as she resumed her path, loaded for bear.
“I think it was important!” Yukio called after her. Ororo didn’t pause to wonder why she sounded slightly frantic.
“Important, my ass,” she muttered under her breath. “Gonna just email and run, buddy? I don’t think so.”
He tried to ambush her again with a midterm plan renewal flexing the wellness benefit to ninety percent for retirees. Of course that was going to raise their rates; since when hadn’t he taken sixth grade math?
No go. Enough was enough.
Her knock on his door was brisk. She didn’t even pause to think about what she was going to say.
“Just a minute,” he barked from the other side of the door, a stark change from the low, even tones of what sounded like a phone call.
Ororo fumed and tapped the heel of her pump against the gray tile. Fine. She’d wait. Oh, this was going to be good. She heard him throw out a few “yups,” “uh-huhs” and “I got its” before ringing off. At the thunk of the handset, she barged inside and slapped the folder onto his blotter.
“What are you trying to do to me?”
“What?” His eyebrows drew together and created dangerous little divots between them. Ororo didn’t check herself.
“You always just assume this is fine. You don’t make a change like this-“
“Like what? Like one that gets the sale?”
“Excuse me?”
“Ya heard me, Ororo. I got the sale. I hopped into my rental car, drove out five hundred miles ta meet the client, sat through a two hour lunch and listened ta their spiel about how they stuck with their last carrier fer ten friggin’ years, and that we had a pretty big bar ta jump over if we wanted ta welcome ‘em into the OptforWellth family. I schmoozed, kissed their asses and bent over so far backwards that I nearly snapped myself in half. Whaddya want? Huh? Ya wanna give it a go? Play with yer little calculator and go take a nap!”
It wasn’t just his words that made her mouth drop open. It was the venom dripping from them that stunned her. “Play with…you did NOT just say that.”
“Darlin’, I ain’t got time ta say anything else. Ya interrupted me in the middle of tryin’ ta head out the door.” Belatedly she noticed his open briefcase on the table and what looked like an expensive black leather and tweed suitcase on wheels propped in the corner.
“How long will you be gone?”
“I don’t see why ya need ta know. But feel free ta check yer inbox if ya want my out of the office message ta keep ya company while I’m gone. I’d take a picture of my sunshine-smiley face for ya ta tape over it, but I ain’t got time.” He was already up from his desk and running on autopilot, logging off his computer, unplugging his Blackberry from its charger, closing the cap on his commuter cup and reaching for his coat.
“So it’s a big secret when you’re coming back? Fine. Sell and run. Let me pick up the pieces of this mess.” Ororo turned to leave, then thought better of it. “Why do you do that? I know I’m just the underwriter, and that doesn’t mean shit to you, but seriously, Logan? Stop throwing me under the bus and making me look like the bad guy. Could you just once not walk all over me-“
“I get it, I get it. Enough. Out.” He fanned her away, and Ororo complied, indignance simmering in her eyes.
“Fine, then. Have fun,” she flipped toward his retreating back once they were out in the corridor.
Evidently, that was the wrong thing to say.
He spun on her, and she saw his broad chest rise with one massive breath before he let her have it.
“Fun. Did ya just tell me ta have fun? News flash, Ororo: This ain’t a pleasure trip. I ain’t plannin’ on havin’ fun of any kind. I have a family emergency that isn’t just about me whistlin’ Dixie and eatin’ beer nuts in coach class.”
She felt her scowl shift down a gear as shame trickled over her flesh like raw eggs. “Oh. Oh, no.”
“It’s my dad,” he told her.
“Oh, Logan, I’m so-“
“Fine. That’s fine. I don’t need ta hear this right now. I’ve got a plane ta catch.” Part of him almost gave in to the softer, chastened look of concern on her face and the way her body language lost its aggression. He didn’t have time to ponder it.
“How are you getting there?”
“Cab,” he threw over his shoulder. He was surprised that she didn’t take his previous statement as a goodbye.
“Uh-uh,” she insisted. She was keeping stride with him all too easily with her long legs, despite her high heels. “Let me drive you.”
“Since when do ya drive ta work?”
“I have to take back a rental tonight. I just got back from Plano,” she explained as she hurried ahead of him and held the door. When they reached the elevator, she punched the ground floor for him, too, so he wouldn’t have to let go of his briefcase or suitcase handle.
“Ya don’t hafta go through the trouble.”
“Who said it was trouble?”
“Because ya sure seemed like ya were in a hurry ta give me hell a few seconds ago.”
“I can move that around on my plate. I’ve got plenty of time to give you hell when you get back. But you have a plane to catch.” She was staring at the buttons, watching them light up one by one as they descended. She didn’t see Logan’s fleeting smile.
“I ain’t takin’ ya away from anything important?”
“Nothing’s more important than family,” she said. Before he could protest, she wrested his briefcase from him and preceded him through the revolving door, lightening his load and confusing him.
She was so…bossy.
She wasn’t wearing a coat, but Logan was relieved to find that the chilly morning wind had died down to a moderate breeze and the air had warmed by about ten degrees since he arrived at work. She looked nice, he thought. More black, but this time it was a soft wrap dress that flattered her curves in a clingy knit. Her hair was up again, but she wore dangling gold earrings shaped like Chinese fans with small tassels at the ends. The only benefit of her spinsterish chignon was that it showed off the line of her graceful neck and small, well-shaped ears.
And her shoes… Logan gave her an A for effort on the sexy black pumps with large buttons over the toes finished in leopard print suede. Ordinarily Logan could care less about women’s footwear, but she seemed to enjoy hers. Better yet, her legs enjoyed them, too. It was impossible to ignore the flash of her long, tapered calves and her even strides.
“Ya aren’t cold?”
“It’s not bad out today. As long as there’s sun out, I can handle a little chill,” she shrugged as they caught the walk light at the corner. Logan wasn’t convinced, particularly since her pace sped up slightly as they strolled down the block.
“Where’d ya park?”
“The garage on Fifth.”
“Ya walked all that way with no coat today? Yer frickin’ crazy, woman. It was cold this mornin’!”
“I left my coat in the office,” she reminded him smoothly, eyeing him as if to day “Duh!”
“Ya didn’t hafta do this,” he grumbled.
“I never do anything I don’t have to do. I do what I want to do.” The sidewalks were crowded despite the fact that it was mid-morning. They were buffeted by the stream of people, pushing them inadvertently closer together. Logan found that he didn’t mind.
She smelled nice. He didn’t mind that, either. Her perfume was subtle and spicy, with notes of sandalwood and ginger, and he guessed she used it sparingly. It worked well with her body chemistry, blending well with her natural pheromones as her skin warmed it. One thing Logan hated was women’s perfumes and colognes that overwhelmed his nose or covered up her natural scent too much. Jean had been more of a floral body wash girl, which suited him fine, even if she did fog up the bathroom every morning with it.
They hit another intersection, drawing to a jerky halt as they caught the red light. The crowd of pedestrians behind them seemed to close in on them again. Ororo drew closer to him instinctively, using him as a buffer; she hated crowds, ironic since she lived and worked in a huge city.
But being beside him was comforting. Easy.
The walk light came on. Ororo misjudged the curb and stumbled on her way onto the crosswalk. “Ooh!” she hissed. Logan’s hand immediately darted out and caught her, hauling her against him.
“Careful, Tory!” He was practically dragging her by the arm as they crossed, helping her to keep a step ahead of the surging flow of feet. She felt chastened and awkward, heat flooding her cheeks.
“Sheesh. Nice,” she muttered. “I don’t know how to walk, or anything,” she added self-deprecatingly. Logan let go of her arm once they reached the opposite side, but only when she gave him an odd look.
His touch seemed to linger. His hands were strong and delightfully warm through the thin knit of her outfit.
“Watch yer step.” He didn’t counter her words with a wisecrack, which surprised her. “Yer makin’ me cold just lookin’ at ya with no coat.”
“It’s no big deal,” she argued.”
“Yer so frickin’ stubborn.”
“Kettle, meet pot.”
“Here,” he said, reaching for her free hand. She still hadn’t given him back his briefcase, which amused him. Logan tugged her hand through the crook of his arm until it was looped all the way through, then clamped his arm close to his body, ensuring that she shared some of his heat and the warm heft of his coat.
Ororo squelched a smile. Bossy, she thought.
They made it to the parking garage and strode up to the second level.
“It ain’t a good idea for ya ta be out here alone at night ta get yer car.”
“Normally I’m not. I usually take the red line and the city bus. I’m leaving an hour early tonight for that reason,” she shrugged.
“Then this is puttin’ ya outta yer way.”
“No. This is giving me a break I wouldn’t have taken. I planned to work through lunch today to get caught up. I needed the air. I was about to start climbing the walls or pitch a bitch if Selene emailed me one more message with a red flag on it.”
Logan snorted. “I don’t envy Don havin’ ta listen ta that.”
“She’s all sweetness and light for him, the poor bastard,” Ororo mused as she clicked the keys. Logan was greeted by the low thunk of the locks on a showy silver Honda Pilot. She reluctantly disengaged herself from him and popped the trunk. Logan loaded the suitcase in the back and closed the hatch with a hefty slam while Ororo climbed in and turned on the heater. The radio came on with the vents, and Logan was assailed by R&B music that he wouldn’t have chosen himself.
She turned down the volume until it was almost mute, creating a background buzz that wasn’t unpleasant. “What terminal are you flying out of?”
“US Air.”
Ororo wrinkled her nose. “Not my favorite. I like Jet Blue.”
“Couldn’t book one on time,” he admitted. “That’s my favorite, but I needed a flight this morning.”
“What happened to your pop?”
“Pop wanted ta meet my brother John and his wife. They all met up in Maine for one of my aunt’s birthdays. So everything was goin’ fine, but Pop complained that he didn’t know why he was tired after they got there. Pop’s been off his oxygen for a while since his heart attack.”
“Heart attack? Good grief, Logan, was that recent?”
“Coupla months ago.” Then he looked stricken. “He had another mild attack yesterday.”
“I’m so sorry!” She shot him a sympathetic glance over the steering wheel as she maneuvered them out of the gate, paying the attendant at the booth. Ororo was a decent driver, even though she despised rush hour traffic and got antsy at red lights.
“Logan, are you warm enough?”
“I’m fine.”
“Let me know, okay?”
It was just weird seeing her so solicitous and concerned, instead of looking like she wanted to smack him with a skillet.
The ride to Logan Airport was uneventful; Ororo smothered a chuckle as she noted the signs.
“Yer laughin’ about how I got the same name as the airport, aintcha?”
“No,” she lied, smirking.
“Liar.”
“I’m not.”
“Brat.” He considered something. “Why do ya go by Tory?”
“It’s easier for people to remember.”
“What’s so hard about Ororo?”
“The spelling. How to pronounce it. How people murder it and call me Laura or Aurora, or even worse, Uhura.”
“Yer kiddin’.”
“I wish.”
“Ouch.”
“So Tory it is.”
After a few seconds, he murmured “I kinda like both.”
*
Ororo steered them through the tunnel for Logan’s concourse and fretted behind a long line of cars.
“Shit. Wish I could have gotten you here sooner.”
“This ain’t any worse than a cab,” he offered.
“Except they drive like maniacs,” she reminded him. “You might not have gotten here in one piece, but they might have saved you a few minutes.” Ororo pulled into the loading zone and clicked open the trunk. Logan promptly hopped out and retrieved his suitcase, nerves making his gut roil and knot. Ororo left the engine running and followed him with his briefcase.
A strong breeze in the corridor ruffled the stray strands that worked their way free from her bun. Logan restrained the urge to brush a couple of them free of her lips when they got stuck in her makeup.
“Have a safe flight,” she told him. “Maybe you could email me when you get in.”
“I don’t know when I’m gonna get a free minute, darlin’.”
“I know. Never mind, that’s fine. Spend some time with your family. Have a nice trip. Take good care of your pop.”
“I’m tryin’. Old geezer’s hardheaded as a mule.”
“Gee, wonder where you got it from, then?” Her blue eyes danced and a smile teased the corner of her mouth.
They paused a moment, watching each other. The urge to share an embrace of some kind, even a little peck was strong.
“Bye, Ororo.”
“Bye.” She waved after him as he rushed toward the check-in line inside. He turned one last time and gave her a cavalier wave.
Ororo kicked herself the entire way back to the office.
“I can rip off his clothes and stick my tongue down his throat at the office, but I freeze up when I drive his ass to the airport,” she muttered, turning up the volume on the radio again. “What’s wrong with me?”
*
Scott was waiting for her in the break room as she made for the coffee pot. “Where were you?” He patted her arm companionably, then winced. “Why do you feel so cold? Were you just outside?”
“Just for a quick errand,” she explained, filling her commuter cup with the bitter brew.
“I was going to ask if you wanted to get lunch out.”
“Can’t. I used up what free time I had.” And not badly, but she didn’t add that.
“Awww. You sure? Can’t tempt you with Papa Gino’s?”
“Nah.” That was a lie. Greasy pepperoni sounded good to her. “Gotta research something and get caught up on some email.”
“Ugh.” Scott sighed. “Now you’re making me feel guilty for taking a lunch. I’ve got just as much crap myself.”
“Probably more,” Ororo added. A client services rep’s job was never done.
“At least I don’t have to travel,” Scott reasoned. “I don’t envy Logan having to get on a plane every month.”
“It wasn’t business this time,” Ororo chimed in.
“What do you mean?”
“His trip to his brother’s.”
“Wait…shit. He left already?”
“Yes.”
“Shit, shit, shit. I meant to offer him a ride. I’m a shitty friend.”
“Please. Not true.”
“It’s not just that. I wanted to check with him to see if he had any action items while he’s gone. I’m his backup for some of his clients.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“It’s a full-time job trying to keep up with him.”
“Maybe he should have been an account manager.”
“Logan doesn’t like being the boss. He likes to do things his way, too. Sales is right up his alley.”
“He definitely does things his way,” Ororo grumbled as she creamed and sugared her coffee.
“So you saw him this morning?”
“More or less. I caught him going out the door by accident while I was trying to barge my way in.”
“Rate problems?”
“Bingo.”
“You could send some of that communication through me, you know.”
“Why make you the middle man?”
“Being the middle man is what Client Services does. It’s job security.” Scott took a generous gulp of his coffee. “Seriously, there’s no need to take him to task if there’s a problem.”
“I wouldn’t have to if he’d listen to me once in a while. Or at all.” Ororo was just getting warmed up.
“He deletes his emails when his box gets too fu-“
“He just runs roughshod all over my rates when I quote them,” Ororo continued, fuming.
“He probably didn’t mean-“
“He’s always got to have the last word,” she added, shrugging emphatically with her coffee cup.
“Logan’s always been a bit of a ““
“Does he even KNOW how to look up state mandates for what we can sell?”
“…talker,” Scott finished. “Ororo?”
“Huh?”
“Can I get a word in edgewise now?”
“Uh. Oops…sorry, Scott.”
They left the break room, chatting companionably.
Scott mused to himself that his best friend and his team’s underwriter had more in common than they would ever admit. But he decided not to point that out, at risk of being hit by a skillet.
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