Cake Love: All Things Payne(81)

My hormones dissipate and confusion takes over. I lean back on my desk that only minutes ago helped in the sexual unification of two warring parties. Maybe we aren't at war, but he does piss me off more than Russia ever irritated the United States, just saying.

"Warned him? What did you say Grandma?"

"I told him you are a challenge. No man has conquered your Himalaya. Finally I told him I would be surprised if a man, even one as nice as him, could take you. Oh and I think I told him to imagine Taming of the Shrew, something along those lines."

"You called me a shrew? Grandma, first of all men have concurred my 'Himalaya' as you call it. I told you I ... AM ... NOT ... A ... LESBIAN! Secondly and most important you made me out to be some barbaric cave woman who needs a man to bat her over the head with a club. I love you, Grandma, but please don't set me up as a sexual challenge to my boss. I don't need help getting laid. Jesus! I never thought I would be having this conversation with my grandmother."

I can hear her sigh on the other end.

"If you didn't want me to help you, Morgana, then why did you have me talk to him?"

"I thought you would stick up for me like you always do. Tell him not to treat me so bad, that sort of thing. Instead you made it sound like he should be afraid of me."

"Trust me sweets what I said helped even if you can't see it now. I have to go. My tanks running low. Need to find gas before I run out. I don't want to be stuck in the desert."

"I thought you were in Wyoming?"

"No not until spring. Staying down south for the winter. Love you, sweets. And don't worry about your Mr. Payne. I think he will wise up soon enough. Are you sure it's Mr. Payne and not Ms. Payne because even though he has a deep voice I know hormonal treatments can do that to a ..."

"Bye, Grandma, love you."

I hang up before she continues on her quest to turn me gay. I can become gay as well as a homosexual can turn straight. Putting the phone into my purse I decide to call it a night. Before I leave I pick up the pink Post-It's scattered on the floor. Most of them are the usual stuff about client meetings, etc. The last one I grab states that I need to pick up his dry cleaning and deliver it to his home. It has the address of the cleaners and his home address on the back.

Really? I will get his paperwork. I will read his emails. I will even get his coffee, but I won't pick up his dry cleaning. I am not his personal assistant. He needs to be reminded that I work for Mimir, not just him. If he needs a favor from me to do his personal fetching then he should have thought about that before teasing me to the point of orgasm and then walking away.

I crumple the note in my fist; snatch my coat and purse before marching to the elevators.

"Lucy, you have some 'splaining to do!" I yell at the open elevator door and walk inside pushing the button.

Once I'm on the twenty-eighth floor I head toward his office and see his door slightly ajar with light filtering out. His voice floats out as I get closer.

"Is he okay, just let me know?"

My body goes rigid and comes to a halt as I notice the hurt in his voice.

"He's breathing. Oh thank God. Was the surgery successful?"

I creep closer to the door without making my presence known. Yes, I know I am eavesdropping but wouldn't you? This is like something out of a soap opera.

There are a lot of "uh huh's" coming from him.

"Well, when will he wake?"

I sense a sneeze coming on and pinch my nose to hold it back. It doesn't work and it feels like my head imploded. Luckily he didn't hear anything. Unluckily I don't have a tissue and keep rubbing my nose on my scarf.

"He's in a coma? You never said anything about a coma?"

My curiosity is going crazy and I have to whip it back like an old fashioned lion tamer.

"Wait. Wait a minute. So, there is a chance he may never wake up? I came to you because you are the best neurosurgeon in this country and now you are telling me, not only may David never walk again but he may never wake up?"

Oh God! I look at the crinkled paper in my hand. Suddenly picking up his dry cleaning doesn't seem like a chore anymore. I drop the paper on the floor feeling like a selfish ass.

My thoughts are interrupted with a loud crash coming from inside his office. Then another crash followed by a large boom. I race inside to see Mr. Payne's chest moving up and down wildly as he stands by an overturned chair. There is a fern that is no longer in its pot lying in the corner and next to it his phone scattered in several pieces.

"Mr. Payne, are you all right?"

His eyes flicker an intense gaze at me. Without a word he turns his back and strolls casually past his desk to the wall of windows putting his hands in his trouser pockets.

"Ms. Drake please contact housekeeping and arrange to have someone clean this up."

"Of course, sir. But are you all right?"

He turns to face me and gives a tiny chuckle which I barely hear.

"No, Ms. Drake, I'm not all right. I haven't been all right for a long time. Now just go home and have a restful weekend. I'll see you first thing on Monday."

Did he just tell me to have a restful weekend? That is so ... nice. Whoa, something is seriously wrong if he is being pleasant to me. This isn't right. I'll talk to him; bring him back from the edge he is nearing.