Snow Blind - Lori G. Armstrong [15]
“Another five hundred. If it takes us less time, we’ll refund you the difference.”
“Sounds fair.” Amery slipped her hand from
Kevin’s to reach for her leather satchel.
I caught a glimpse of her checkbook cover before she flipped it open. For Christsake. The plastic was plastered with happy, fluffy, roly-poly puppies. Puppies! I dreaded seeing whatever cute critters decorated her actual checks.
She wrote the amount in the register, ripped the check out with painstaking precision, and handed it 47
to me.
The face of her pastel pink checks were dotted with a variety of stilettos. “Would you like a receipt?”
Kevin said, “I’ll give her one. I have to write her a new contract anyway.”
Hey. Office drone shit was my responsibility, not his. Then again, the gaga eyes they were leveling at each other made me want to hurl.
“No need for you to stick around, Jules. It’s a standard form. There’s nothing else going on today, either.”
An escape. “Cool. I’ll just pop down and say hello to Kim before I leave.”
Kevin hadn’t taken his eyes off Amery. “You do that.”
I gathered my coat and purse from my office and booked it downstairs.
The hair salon was as dead as every other business this time of year. Jenny—a ditz with a bra size bigger than her IQ—deigned to glance up from the fashion magazines spread across the check-in counter. The wad of purple gum she chomped matched the gloss on her collagen-enhanced lips.
“Is Kim around?”
“Nopers. She went home early.”
“When?”
“About two hours ago.”
“Was everything all right?”
“Yeppers.”
Jesus. I hated her cutesy answers. “She still having 48
problems with heartburn?”
“Yeppers.”
I left before she subjected me to more of her creative vernacular and I subjected her to what constitutes proper professional etiquette.
Dammit. I missed Kim. As much as I wanted to check on her, I knew she’d suffered with trouble sleeping and she deserved a quiet, uninterrupted afternoon nap. So, what now?
Home. I bundled up and reached in my coat
pocket for my gloves, only to come up empty-handed. Great. I’d set them on my desk and they were my spare pair. My favorite leather gloves were in Martinez’s Escalade.
Back upstairs. I’d cleared the reception area when I noticed the door to the conference room was cracked open. “Oh, Kevin. Yes. Yes. Right there,” wafted out on a seductive sigh.
I froze. I heard Kevin’s low voice but couldn’t make out his exact response. But Amery’s next phrase rang out loud and clear:
“Harder. Oh. Just like that. God. That is so good.”
No. It couldn’t be. They were not doing it on the conference table. Maybe Kevin was giving her a neck rub or something.
Then a rhythmic thumping started.
So much for my back rub theory.
My feet shuffled forward even when my brain attempted to superglue them to the carpet. 49
Don’t look. You don’t want to see this. But I did. Some perverse part of me for sure. I tiptoed across the room. My heart raced; my blood pounded a countertempo to the steady noises echoing back to me. One more step and I’d be at the door. Don’t do it. Walk away. Run away. Ignoring the warning, I placed my cheek against the wooden door trim and peeked inside.
Holy shit.
Amery was splayed on the conference table,
à la 1950s-pinup-girl-style; back and neck arched provocatively, her blouse undone, lacy bra cups dangling by her armpits, her skirt shoved up past her hips, her legs clad in sheer black thigh-highs were wrapped around Kevin’s waist. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the sight of her shiny black boots contrasting with the white skin of Kevin’s naked ass.
“Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop,” she wailed. Theatrics? Or was Kevin really that good?
Kevin’s pants were around his ankles. Besides that he was fully clothed. He’d pinned Amery’s arms above her head as his lower body thrust against hers, rocking the table.
My cheeks flamed. While I understood Kev taking a little afternoon delight when it was offered, he should’ve locked the goddamn door—any door. He’d left the office wide open. Anyone could’ve waltzed in and