A Will and a Way by Maggie Wells

Author:Maggie Wells [Wells, Maggie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

Betty blew through the front door to the office with a plastic bag containing a salad for her and a meatball sub for Will, but lunch was the last thing on her mind. The first thing she wanted to do was blow him. She’d never felt as powerful as she did when she took him into her mouth. Funny to think that once upon a time, she’d resisted giving blow jobs. After she and Donald had been married a year, she’d stopped even pretending to like it. Thankfully, he’d given up and quit asking. Pushing away thoughts of her late husband and the woman she used to be, she swung the bag onto her desk and shrugged out of the short trench coat she’d worn over her too-thin for Yankee spring wrap dress.

“Hello?”

She smiled when she heard the squeak of Greg’s desk chair. Will had taken to working from his partner’s desk, claiming he needed a more organized space in order to make his calls. Deep down, she suspected it was proximity to her desk that kept him there, but she tried not to dwell on that thought, or its implications, too much. Pinching the ends of the bow tied at her waist, she crossed the small reception area to the open doorway.

“I brought you a sandwich. Are you hungry?”

Will looked up from the sheaf of papers in his hand, a frown furrowing his brows. “First Lady of Percy, Mississippi? You put that on your résumé?”

She blinked. “Of course I did. It may have been a small town, but I performed a number of functions that were crucial to the administration.” She cocked her head as it struck her that he hadn’t questioned her experience before. “Are you just now looking at my résumé?”

His mouth stretched into the lopsided grin she’d come to know so well. “I’ve been distracted.” He tossed the papers onto the desk without a second glance, just as he had the week before. “I see that you were also the Managing Director of The Asher Agency. You pick your own title?”

“Of course. I also signed my own paycheck.”

“All types of insurance?”

“Everything but commercial.” Since he was obviously in a more business-oriented mood, she relinquished her plan to unwrap the dress and moved to take a seat in the guest chair. Crossing her legs, she gave him a demure smile. “It was technically Donald’s business, but I was fully licensed.”

He cast a frankly admiring glance at her legs, then flashed that rogue’s smile once again. “I don’t doubt that you ran the place with your pinkie finger alone.”

She tipped her chin up with pride. “And I was damn good at it.”

“Why did you leave it behind?”

The simple question made her lungs freeze and tears burn hot in the back of her throat. How could she possibly explain that losing her job was almost more painful than losing her husband? She fidgeted in her seat, momentarily wishing she had a cigarette even though she’d ditched the vile habit over a decade ago.

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