Last Chance Saloon - Marian Keyes [105]
‘I’m going to have a shower,’ he announced, and stalked out of the office.
There was a shower in the gents’ at Breen Helmsford, ostensibly for occasions such as this – although company rumour had it that the real reason was that the head honcho, ‘Call me Johnny’ Denning, had insisted on it so that he could wash off traces of the sex he’d had with his employees before going home to his wife.
Katherine sat down and tried to make a list of things to delegate to Breda. But she couldn’t concentrate on her work, hadn’t been able to since Tara had made that life-altering phone call on Monday. For once, though, instead of agonizing about Fintan, Katherine was transported, imagining what would happen if – just if – she followed Joe into the shower. The steam, the slipperiness of the soap as she rubbed herself against his thighs, his stomach, his groin. His erection flipping stiffly, heavily, this way, then that, as she moved against it. The feel of his big hands on her waist, her buttocks, lathering the soap, using it to lubricate between her… Christ Almighty! She exhaled in a shudder and forced herself to stop. Work. She was here to work.
An awful thought hit her. Where the hell was Angie? Breathlessly she scanned the office and to her relief saw her at her desk. Good. If she couldn’t have a shower with Joe Roth she was damned if Angie Hiller could.
Joe returned to the office in a cloud of sharp freshness. His dark hair was wet and slicked back and he was dressed in his suit. But his tie hung loosely around his neck and his shirt was open a few buttons down. Through the gap in his shirt, Katherine stared at the hair on his chest. She was shocked. Deeply affected by the incongruity of having such naked sex appeal in a place as inappropriate as an office. And alarmed by the intensity of her own response.
She couldn’t stop herself watching as he buttoned up his shirt, then grasped both strands of his tie.
‘I really need a mirror for this,’ he realized, and, as he made to return to the gents’, Angie was over to his desk waving a little compact.
‘I’ve got one here. I’ll hold it for you,’ she offered.
Briefly, Joe looked discomfited, then smiled, ‘Thanks,’ and began deftly to knot his tie, folding it back and forth on itself, as he hunched over and stared into the mirror with great concentration.
Clammy dread flushed down Katherine’s body. Angie holding the mirror was a gesture that was way too intimate for Katherine’s liking. But weak with wanting, she kept watching, as Joe rubbernecked backwards and forwards, from side to side, tying a big, fat knot. Why did she find this such a turn-on? Was it his single-mindedness as he tried to get it right? Because it was such a uniquely male thing? Echoes of masturbation?
Smoothly Joe glided the knot along the shaft of the tie, until it was in place. Katherine felt another wave of desire. Then he gave a final tug, his big hand clasped around the length of fabric and her mouth went dry. He looked great. His shirt collar snow-white against his shaven jaw, the tie knot fat and even. ‘Thanks.’ He smiled at Angie.
‘No problem.’ She smiled back, snapping her compact closed. She lingered in front of him, smiling goofily. Katherine tasted metal in her mouth. There was no mistaking the intimacy, the connection between the two of them. Joe Roth had to be the mystery man, Mr Gillette. Katherine felt terrible. But whom could she blame? Only herself. She’d messed it up. She could have had him and she’d sabotaged it.
Then she thought of Fintan lying in his hospital bed, not knowing whether he was going to live or die, and waited for things to assume their correct proportions. To her great shame, they didn’t. Joe and Angie still seemed important.
37
A little hospital-visiting routine got going so that Thursday followed much the