Pleasure After Hours. AlTonya Washington

The lunch meeting with H.R. Executive Liaison Cursha Wagner had been on his mind ever since he decided to call it over a week ago.

       “So you’re telling me she hasn’t made any inquiries?”

       “Mataeo.” Cursha pressed her lips together and looked more than a tad uncertain. “I’m afraid I don’t quite under—”

       “Listen.” He tapped an index finger on the table once. “What I’m saying to you is confidential. If I have any reason to suspect my concerns have been discussed in any way, shape or form—”

       “Mataeo.” Cursha’s uncertainty faded and she sat up a little straighter in her chair. “There’s no need to stress that. I’m good at my job and I certainly know better than to air the boss’s laundry.”

       “Hell,” Mataeo said and massaged the bridge of his nose. “Cursha, I’m sorry. Guess my concerns have me a little paranoid.”

       She nodded, her smile laced with understanding. “You’re afraid you’re about to lose your best person.”

       “She’s my right arm.” Mataeo’s jaw flexed as the muscle there danced wickedly.

       To himself, he acknowledged that she was a great deal more than that. He couldn’t function without her. He chose to shake off the thought in the back of his mind that challenged whether that “functioning” only pertained to business matters.

       “I haven’t had any conversations with her about her job or leaving it.”

       Cursha’s words intruded on his thoughts. Mataeo nodded once quickly as though he were content.

       “So…” Cursha tapped all ten fingers on the shellacked edge of the table. “Is this a onetime meeting or should I let you know if the situation changes?”

       Mataeo focused on a spot near the edge of his tie. He didn’t relish the thought of continuing down the path suggested by the liaison, but he hadn’t gotten where he was by not following his instincts. Just then, his instincts were telling him that Temple was hiding something. He had no idea why he felt what she may’ve been hiding had anything to do with them. But when his instincts spoke, he had no choice but to listen.

       Slowly, his mocha stare shifted toward Cursha. “Let me know,” he said.

       Temple returned from her lunch with Meg hardly able to recall how she’d gotten from her car to the office. The conversation with Megaleen still played hot and heavy in her brain. Whatever dramas might arise from her sudden departure, Temple knew that leaving was her only choice. If she ever expected to live her life without thoughts of Mataeo North as her lover instead of her colleague, she had to leave.