A Bad Bit Nice (18 page)

“Whaddya at, ducky? How’s the trip getting on?” Em could hear Mick’s smile through the phone.

“It’s good. The clients have been on their best behavior, the equipment has arrived, and we have our own conference room. Not bad for a client site.”

“How’s Rory? Is it weird?”

“Rory was stand-offish for a couple of days, but, you know him—once we get the client in the room, he’s the consummate professional. We had drinks last night and cleared the air, and we actually have dinner reservations in a bit.”

“I’m glad. I still haven’t talked to him, but we usually don’t talk when he’s out of town unless something dire comes up.”

“I think things are fine. He was just surprised. Apparently I thwarted your planned seduction by being a bossy bitch?”

Mick laughed. “Something like that. Though I think we would have both combusted with sexual frustration if you hadn’t pulled that stunt.”

“Stunt? That wasn’t a stunt. It was a survival strategy.”

“I miss you. A lot. I can’t wait for you to get home.”

“I can’t either. And I’m not out for five weeks after, so you’ll have plenty of time to get sick of me. Things are dead between Thanksgiving and the new year, so we’re going to use that time to do paperwork and wrap up stuff that’s finished and then prep for projects that are starting in January.”

“So you’ll be here for Thanksgiving?” Mick asked.

“This year I will be. I usually go with Ashley to her insane family’s house, but this year they’re all terrorizing the high seas on a cruise. I didn’t know what my work schedule was going to be like, so I passed on that crazy experience.”

“They’re a handful, I take it?”

“There are seven of them and they’re all like Ashley, every single one of them. All her brothers and her dad are in some sort of law enforcement or the military. If they get hijacked by pirates, the pirates will pay
us
a ransom to take them back.” She laughed. “Are you going to be around for Thanksgiving?”

“Rory and I alternate going to up to Boston and his folks coming down here. This year’s my year to host,” explained Mick. “I would love for you to be there,” he added quietly.

“I don’t know, Mick. It sounds like a family thing.”

“Em, please come. You know,” Mick said, trying to lessen the tension that suddenly reared up in their conversation, “Rory will kick my arse if he finds out that you’re alone on Thanksgiving. He may be smaller than I am, but he fights dirty.”

Em laughed. “Okay, okay. You’ve convinced me. But I’m bringing desserts.”

“Okay, that’s a deal. I’m looking forward to it!” Mick laughed. “I’ll let you go get dinner, love. I’ll see you in a couple of days.”

“See you soon, sugar.”

With a big grin, Em pulled out a blouse to change into for dinner. Mick had gotten into the habit of calling back later in the evening, talking dirty and getting her riled up before bed. Last night he’d sent a delicious picture of his toned stomach with his jeans unbuttoned, showing his hairy lower belly and just a peek of the head of his erect cock. It wasn’t dirty-dirty, but just a little bit naughty. Maybe she should send him a picture for inspiration for tonight’s phone call. She knew he liked the fussy blouses she always wore. Maybe a glimpse of a nipple? Her phone rang and Em answered with a laugh.

“I know you’re getting impatient but this is a little silly. It’s all of been five minutes!”

“Hello Em. It’s been a bit longer than five minutes, dear.” Tripp managed to sound smarmy even over the telephone.

“Tripp,” she said flatly. “What on Earth do you want?”

“I want you back, both in the office and in my bed.”

“Whu..what?”

“You heard me, Em. I want you back.”

“What?”

“I. Want. You. Back.” Tripp spoke slowly, like she was a child that couldn’t comprehend the words he was saying. “You’ve made your point, working with that one criminal and fucking the other. Come back to me.”

“Who I work or sleep with is none of your concern, Tripp, and furthermore, you’re crazy if you think I’m having anything to do with you or your father’s firm. Goodbye, Tripp. Stop calling me.”

Em knew that the reminder that Tripp worked for his father would do nothing but piss him off, but she didn’t care a bit. He’d been calling her several times a day since the scene at the restaurant. First, he’d merely asked her to come back to the firm, but more recently he’d begun insisting they get back together. What about Bailey? She was pregnant! Were they even still together? The whole situation was just bizarre.

Em hadn’t told Mick or Rory about the phone calls, but she was reconsidering that decision now. There was something very off about this whole Tripp situation.

She decided that she’d call Bailey tomorrow. She missed her friend, and she wanted to make sure that she was safe. She’d ask Bailey about Tripp and hopefully determine what the hell was going on with him, and then she would tell Rory about Tripp’s phone calls. She was definitely going to wait to tell Mick until after she got back so she could distract him with sex to keep him from killing her assclown of an ex-boyfriend.

Her plan of action made, she aimed her phone down her cleavage, snapped a picture, sent it to Mick, and then finished dressing for dinner.

*****

Em was uneasy. Something was definitely amiss with Bailey.

She’d seemed thrilled to speak with Em, going as far as to make a lunch date for the following week when Em was back in town. She updated Em about the people at the Holbrook Firm, and Em talked excitedly about working with Rory at Tara Security Systems.

What, or rather who, Bailey didn’t mention was Tripp, which worried Em. Bailey talked about the pregnancy and Tripp’s father, Ed, and how excited he was to be a grandfather, but she didn’t mention Tripp at all.

When Em finally broached the subject, Bailey merely said, “Oh, Tripp is Tripp. You know how he is.”

Em definitely knew how he was, which was unfortunate for Bailey.

Em tried a different tack. She had asked about work, trying to get a feel for what the office environment was like now. Bailey didn’t mention Tripp specifically, but from the things that she said, or didn’t say, Em knew that her former department was falling apart now that Em wasn’t there to hold it together for Tripp. She tried to probe for more information, but Bailey kept changing the subject.
Oh well.

Em reiterated that Bailey could and most definitely should call her if she needed anything at all, but Bailey waved off her offers. Em told her friend goodbye, hanging up with a very uneasy feeling in her gut.

She definitely needed to tell Rory what was going on.

*****

“What the actual fuck?!” Rory almost yelled, but he was able to rein it in. “How long has this shite been harassing you?”

“Since he and Mick had their little run-in,” Em admitted with a cringe.

“And he’s been escalating his threats?”

“He hasn’t actually threatened me, per se, but he makes me feel threatened, you know?”

“Yeah, I know, love.” Rory drummed his fingers on the conference table. “Mick is going to lose his mind.” He ran his hand over his face. “I want you to keep track of every time he contacts you, Em. If we can prove a pattern of harassment, you can get a restraining order against him.”

“Hello, have you met me? I’m a security analyst, Rory. I know how these things work.” Em took a deep breath.

Em and Rory talked some more, deciding what Em’s next steps would be. When their plan was final, Rory said, “Em, why don’t you take Monday off? Heavens know you’ve earned it. Spend it with your man; get your home set up. You don’t need to work as much as you do. This isn’t the Holbrook Firm, where billable hours are king, you know? What’s the good of pulling down the salary I pay you if you can’t enjoy it, right?”

Em got ready to protest, but Rory shot her a look that brooked no argument.

“Thanks, Rory. I appreciate it.”

“No, Em, this is the least I can do. I really can’t tell you how pleased I am that this is working out.”

Em acknowledged what was left unsaid with a smile.

“As soon as I get a chance, I am so getting one of these.”

Em lounged in the huge tub in Mick’s bathroom. Her own bathroom, while bright and crisp, hadn’t been updated since the Depression, and though she loved her deep claw-foot tub, this was unreal.

Mick, who had an unabashed love of baths, had redone the master bathroom immediately after he moved in. The two-person Jacuzzi tub sat in front of a leaded glass bay window. Giant Boston ferns inside and trailing trellises outside obscured the bather from view.

Em wiggled her painted toes on the edge of the tub, her hand wrapped around Mick’s freshly shaved neck, fingers snaking up the back of his head.

“I like these,” he said, rubbing his own foot over her toes. She looked back at him, a big grin on her face, and smooched his cheek.

“I’d never have pegged you for a bath person,” Em said, settling back into his chest.

Mick was quiet in the way that Em had grown to recognize as his “I’m getting ready to share something with you” quiet. He kissed her shoulder and then rested his chin there.

“Baths remind me of being taken care of, feeling loved.”

Em turned her face to him, waiting to see if he was going to continue. When he didn’t, she accepted that that was all he was going to share this time. She kissed his bearded jaw and rested her forehead against his chin.

Mick glanced at the clock on the wall.

“I gotta get moving, ducky,” he said, regretfully, as he nudged Em forward.

He got out of the tub and quickly dried off while Em continued to lounge. Mick disappeared into the bedroom and grinned at Em’s pout when he returned wearing a pair of snug boxer briefs. He began drying his hair and beard, shifting his weight from foot to foot, making his ass flex and tense.

“Mick, if you flex your butt one more time, I’m going to have to get out of the tub and bite it. I can barely stand it, you look so good standing there.”

He looked at her in the bath, partially obscured by bubbles, breasts bobbing in the water, areolas winking at him. He groaned. Figures she’d have the day off and he had a last minute meeting. Her trademark blood orange and vanilla bath oil wafted through the air. Just getting a tiny whiff of the stuff made Mick hard. She had left a bottle of it with him before she went out of town and he immediately had taken full advantage of it, but had had to stop because he was in a state of permanent arousal when he smelled it.

“I never realized how much upkeep a full beard took,” Em said, her fingers trailing through the bubbles. “I like that oil you put in your beard. It smells like tobacco and vanilla and manly stuff.”

Mick laughed. “I can give you some of the beard oil to keep with you when you travel. Will you be here when I get back? It shouldn’t take more than a couple of hours.”

“I’ll be a prune!” Em teased. “No, I’ll probably be upstairs. There’s a lot of stuff that I haven’t unpacked yet, and post-mortem reports that I need to get started on.”

“Okay, ducky. I’m going to head out but I’ll come upstairs when I get back.” Mick kissed her on the mouth and then on the top of her head and went into the bedroom to dress.

Em heard his low singing while he dressed. She couldn’t carry a tune if it had handles, and she enjoyed the fact that Mick had been singing more and more lately. Many nights as they lay in bed, he held her and sang love songs quietly until they both drifted off to sleep.

He popped back into the bathroom before he left for another kiss, and then reluctantly left. She settled back in the tub. She totally could get used to this.

She lounged in the tub until the water got uncomfortably cold. As she dried off, she noticed the bottle of beard oil on Mick’s bathroom counter. She sniffed it and put a dab of the oil on the inside of each wrist so she could smell Mick with her during the day. She got dressed and headed up to her own apartment.

Em was putting up books on the built-in bookshelves when her phone chimed with a text message.

Mick: Headed home. Pick up Thai?

“Sounds great,” Em responded and hurried to finish unpacking one last box.

There was a rustling of bags and a knock on the door.

“Silly, it’s open!” she called. “You don’t need to be so formal.”

The knocking continued. Frowning, Em opened the door to see a guy holding takeout bags.

“Ermengarde Davidson, I have a delivery. Will you sign?”

“Uh, sure.” Em signed the sheet, wondering why Mick had had the Thai delivered and why on Earth the delivery guy needed a signature. The delivery guy flipped his signature book closed.

“Thank you. Ermengarde Davidson, you’ve been served.”

Em was still standing open-mouthed with outrage when Mick got up to her apartment with their real dinner.

“Em, what’s going on?” Mick had never seen Em so furious.

She simply thrust the sheet of paper at him, too angry to speak. She knew if she opened her mouth, angry tears would flow and the last thing she wanted to do was cry.

Mick frowned as he read over the document. “This is complete crap! They can’t enforce a non-compete clause this far after the fact, right? You’ve been with Rory for almost a year! “

“I need to call Rory.”

“No need to, I think,” Mick said, hearing Rory bellow from downstairs. “We’re in Em’s apartment, Rory!” Mick called through the open door.

Rory stalked into Em’s apartment. “I take it you got one of these?” he said as he waved a piece of paper around. “Piece of shite, pig-fucker, assclown Holbrook. I hate that guy. Em, I’ve already called the lawyer. I’m going to see Ed Monday, though. Tripp’s gone too far.”

Mick had gotten suspiciously still and quiet. He looked first at Em, then at Rory, and then got ready to speak when Rory said forcefully, “I told Em not to tell you that Tripp was contacting her because I knew you would react exactly like you’re...”

“I’m not even doing or saying anything yet!” Mick roared.

“‘Yet’ is the operative word. Let the lawyers handle it, Mick. Em, you know I can’t let you work until this gets resolved. Enjoy some time off. Finish unpacking. Spend time with this eejit so he doesn’t do anything foolish,” he said, pointing at Mick, who scowled but then grinned sheepishly. “Okay, that’s resolved. I see you have Thai so I’m going to eat. Being filled with righteous fury gets me hungry.”

They had dinner and discussed what their next moves would be. After much debate, Em reluctantly agreed that going to Ed would be the easiest way to end this farce of a lawsuit.

“Thank goodness we don’t have a lot going on in the next two months, what with Thanksgiving and the winter holidays,” Em said, groaning with pleasure as Mick rubbed her neck and shoulders, melting the tension with his firm touch.

“Em, I think you’ve got a bit of drool right here,” teased Rory, pointing to the edge of her lip. Em flipped him off. “I can see that you two have some relaxing to do. I’ll check in with you tomorrow, Em. Mick, be smart.” Rory looked Mick in the eye and knocked on the table before he left.

“What was that about?” Em asked, twisting her head to look at Mick.

“You know Rory. He’s a mother hen. He worries about me. And you.”

Em put her arms around Mick’s shoulders and kissed his cheek. He patted her arms and kissed her in return.

“Want to have a sleepover, Mick?” Em asked.

“I thought you’d never ask, Em. I know you just had a bath this morning, but let me take care of you tonight, please. I’ll run you a bath and you can have a nice soak.” Mick curled his fingers around her neck and placed a sweet kiss on her cheek before he disappeared into the bathroom. “Em, do you have anything other than the orange stuff to put in the bath? Never mind, I found something.”

When the claw-foot tub was nearly filled, Mick came back into the living room and scooped Em off of the couch, making her giggle. He closed the door to trap the warmth of the bath in the small room, and proceeded to gently undress her, reverently kissing each limb after he removed its covering. Mick helped Em into the deep tub and then perched on a small, prissy chair behind her head so that he could continue the backrub that he started in the living room.

“Would you let me wash your hair?” Mick asked, continuing to rub Em’s shoulders and neck. “Massage your scalp?”

“Good God, you’re spoiling me, Mick. But yes, please.”

Mick ran warm water over Em’s hair, being careful not to get any in her eyes. His strong fingers massaged shampoo into her scalp, making Em groan as she relaxed further.

After he rinsed her hair, Mick bent down next to her ear and whispered, “You ready to get out?” Em was so relaxed that she couldn’t speak, so she just nodded.

“Okay, love. I’ll be right back,” he said, and disappeared into the living room. He returned with Em’s chenille bathrobe, warm from the dryer, which he slipped on to her shoulders after he helped her out of the bath.

“What are you doing, Mick?” Em giggled. “This is about the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

“I’ve wanted to pamper you for a while, Em. You work really hard, and deserve to be taken care of.”

He kissed Em on the mouth, nipping her bottom lip and stroking her breast under her bathrobe. Mick swept her up into his arms and carried her across the hall to her bedroom, where he laid her on the bed on the unmade bed and stretched out beside her.

They lay like that for a long time, kissing and touching each other, with Em slowly ridding Mick of his clothes. When they were both completely naked, Mick made slow, sweet love to her, worshipping her body as he continued to soothe her soul. They peaked together, each calling out the others name as the waves of pleasure washed over them.

“Thank you, Michael,” Em breathed into his ear.

“The pleasure was all mine, love.”

*****

Em lay in the bed, unsure what to do. She hadn’t been unemployed in 20 years and hadn’t taken a vacation in three.

She sat up and looked at Mick’s still-sleeping form. He was so tall that his feet hung off the end of her double bed. He lay sprawled on his stomach and it was a beautiful sight. He was all long, hard lines. He had one arm thrown over her waist, his hand cupping her hip possessively.

Em stroked her fingers over the tattoos on his back, the big abstract swirls of dense black ink that began on his shoulder blades and ended just above his buttocks. They must have taken hours to complete.

Not for the first time, she wondered where he’d gotten the scars that the tattoos skillfully camouflaged. She didn’t know details, but she wished that he would trust her enough to share the particulars. There was still so much about him that was mysterious. She lay back down and wrapped her body closer to his side.

Mick rolled over on his back, pulling Em with him. She looked over his body greedily. He had a liberal dusting of dark hair on his torso, thick on his pecs and thinning over his abs, then growing thicker on his lower belly, ending in a dense thatch that surrounded the base of his thick cock.

He rolled to face her and said, eyes still closed, “Was that cat of yours looking at my bare ass? He needs to know my fine derriere is for your enjoyment only. Voyeuristic beast.” Em laughed, not in the least bit because Beauregard was indeed sitting on her dresser, glaring at Mick’s naked body.

“What are you thinking about so hard over there?” He smooched her cheek and pulled her closer. “Is it me? Is it all the things I have time to do to you, now that you’re not traveling all over?” His cock twitched with interest. He cupped her ass and squeezed it, nudging her with his hips. “I know what I’m thinking: I’m thinking that if we have more sleepovers here, you have to get a bigger bed and a blindfold for that pervy cat.”

Em sighed.

“Em, what’s wrong?” Mick’s eyes flew open.

She stroked his beard, one finger lingering over the stripe of silver. His worried blue eyes searched her face. He took a deep breath and stroked her cheek.

“What would you like to know?”

“I want to know everything,” she said.

“A lot of it’s not good, you know that, right? A lot of it’s really, really ugly.”

“I figured, but if we’re together, I want to know all about you. I know I know more than most people, but I’m greedy when it comes to you. I want it all.” She kissed the palm that rested on her face.

“Where do you want me to start?”

“Why not here?” She touched his back.