A Misplaced Letter

After lunch he gave himself a break and peaked out blinds. Damn it, she was best secretary he had ever worked with, but he couldn't work like this. She was maddening in her innocent modesty. Miriam O'Connell was the most difficult woman he had ever met, yet he still wanted her, and worse he wanted her to want him back just as much.

He saw clock hit four and he stopped what he was doing. Douglas wanted time to sort things out, to figure out what was he was going to do now. Miriam had been nothing short of perfect, as a secretary, her interest in him was only as her boss. His thoughts troubled him; he had never had trouble gaining a woman's interest. Miriam was not however just any woman, he wasn't looking for one night fling. He needed her completely or not at all. His gusts twisted in knots as he imagined her seeing someone else. That would kill him; he couldn't keep working with her, regardless of the outcome. He'd see to it that she was transferred, that was least he could do, perhaps even a increase in pay, after all she deserved it. Douglas was never type of guy to waste time, and set about making the calls. This way her job security would never be in question when he asked her out. He'd never been so nervous in his life; he tried to remind himself that it was just a date. His palms were sweating as he walked out of his office seeing her facing computer, talking on the phone. He glanced at clock it was a quarter until five, who would be calling at this time?

Miriam had thrown herself into her work, and when her cousin called she couldn't help but smile. Normally she wouldn't take a personal call at work, but she was so glad to hear a friendly voice. She had picked up the phone, Victor was rambling about his flight being overbooked and he was stuck overnight. He wondered if she'd like to get together for dinner. The sound of his friendly voice made her feel better and she agreed. "Sure Vic, I'll pick you up," were last words she said as a hand came down on the phone disconnecting her from Victor.

He hated eavesdropping but couldn't help but hear the warmth in her voice as she affectionately chattered away with someone named Vic. His courage failed him, balling his hands into fists he walked over and hung up the phone.

"What, did you do that for?" her voice immediately fell and she felt as if she were being scolded all over again.

He regretted it instantly as her smile disappeared, the knot in his stomach grew. "I'm transferring you," she interrupted him before he could finish.

She stood up tears forming in her eyes, "Transferring? Haven't I been all you asked for? Efficient? Willing to work late hours? Professional?" She squeezed her eyes shut not wanting to let him see her cry.

"I want more," his voice was raw, as his fingers stroked her chin, raising those beautiful eyes to his. He was drowning in them and he no longer minded.

"More?" her soft question nearly broke him then and there. It was neither time nor place to make love with her.

"Much, much more, but let's start with dinner. Tonight?" his voice cracked as he felt her tremble under his touch. Could he be so lucky as to have the chance to gain her love? It was a hope he secretly harbored, even as he told himself it was impossible. She knew him too well from his work habits to his favorite cologne. She knew about how he treated the women in his life, how could she possibly want that?

"I have plans," the words fell from her lips like a bomb. She was stunned by his offer and confused and kicked herself for her cousin being in town for weekend. They had already made plans for dinner.

He felt as if he had been kicked in stomach, was he so foolish to think he was first to want her, he had merely hoped he would be the last. "Forget it then, I'll see your belongings get transferred to your new position." He had to remain calm, or he'd pull his hair out.

At dinner she was gloomy again, especially after hearing of her transfer so abruptly. Mr. Curtis had been so mysterious about what he wanted. Then he dropped it as if nothing had ever happened, when she said she couldn't have dinner with him. Miriam picked at her food. Victor sensed something was wrong with his usually vibrant cousin. "Has your food done something wrong to you?" he smiled, trying to cheer her up.

She gave a weak smile and replied, "I guess I'm just not hungry."

"How about dessert?" he raised one eyebrow, trying to gauge how deeply her bad mood ran.

She picked at her food more, trying to force herself to eat. When everything tasted like dust. Miriam rubbed the back of her neck and sighed, "Sure, I'm always up for something sweet,"

Victor motioned the waiter over and asked what pies were in season. Miriam partially listened, her conversation with Mr. Curtis still replaying in the back of her mind. "Pecan pie if you have it," she said, noting that she must have been staring at dessert menu for a while as silence had filled the air.

He took the order and left. She pushed her remaining food around on her plate. Cleaning her fork off as her pie finally arrived. It was a sinful dessert, pure sugar. She glanced at it knowing she shouldn't use food to make her feel better, but shaking her head. At least she knew it wouldn't make her feel any worse. The first bit was decadent; it had been a long time since she'd gone out to a fancy restaurant to eat. Her job had left little free time to pursue such things. Since she probably got demoted to secretarial pool and got a cut in her wages she'd have more time to enjoy the finer things in life.

"What's wrong?" his voice cut through her mental monologue. Glancing up from her pie, she saw him looking at her.

"Nothing, well, okay. I just got transferred with no warning and no real reason. I just feel as if someone pulled the rug from under me." The pie was delicious and enjoying it reminded her that there were other things in life besides Mr. D. Curtis worth enjoying.

"No reason?" he pressed sensing her hesitation.

"Well, he just said he wanted more from me, but never really specified what he meant." Suddenly the conversation looked different to her and she felt sick to her stomach. What if he had meant that he wanted her for his sexual plaything, just a toy to use when nights were long and it was convenient. Her respect for him lowered a notch and she tried not to think of that possibility.

"More? Don't you already work 50-80 hours a week? What does he want? Your weekends and your first born son?" He had tried to seem joking, but by the way she nervously glanced at him and when she licked her lips he knew he had hit a nerve.

"I guess he just wasn't happy with the quality of my work. All I know is come Monday I'll be at a new desk, with a new boss, and undoubtedly a smaller paycheck." She took the last bit of pie, trying to forget about Mr. Curtis. After all it wasn't as if they had even been on a first name basis.

"He's an idiot, I'd like to give him a piece of my mind."

She glanced at him, "Come on Victor, how often do I get to see you and have you stay at my place? Please just let me enjoy it," she changed the subject.

It was a quiet drive home with her cousin in tow. She almost hoped Mr. Curtis had tracked her down and wanted to talk to her about why he transferred her, but she had no such luck. Her apartment was empty, as Vic hit the shower. She checked her answering machine. No new messages, she frowned, she couldn't believe that the last year of working with Mr. Curtis had meant nothing to him. It was as if he had, in one day, negated a whole year of her life. She pulled out the sofa bed for Victor and tried to sort things out in her head. He came out of bathroom, and she told him that she just wanted to curl up with a good book and get some sleep. After all she had to be up early for yoga classes. That he should feel free to help himself to the contents of her refrigerator.

Victor settled in for night, hoping things worked out for his cousin, not waking to hear her slip out early next morning.

She barely slept, tossing and turning most of night; she woke up at crack of dawn. First taking a quick shower and decided to go for a jog. She tried to sort things out, but ended up just as confused as before. Taking a quick shower at the gym, before changing into a black leotard, then thinking of how her yoga instructor ogles her, she threw on pair of sweat pants and tank top over it.

She headed to class thinking if she ever needed inner peace now was the time. Miriam was so intent on relaxing she didn't realize class had dissipated while she was still stretching afterwards. Her instructor approached her with a disgusting smile on his face. She groaned, why oh why did the man she wasn't interested in want her and the man she wanted had fired her. Blinking, did she really want Mr. Curtis? Or did she merely want him to want her? The thoughts raced in her mind, as she stood almost lightheaded as she realized she wanted both.

She was busy fending herself off from her yoga instructor, Lars at same time her cousin was being rudely awakened.

The knocking on door was too loud to ignore, so Victor got up. It was nearly ten; he hadn't realized he was so tired. He glanced over at bedroom, looked like Miriam was already up and about, she had said something about yoga, and maybe she forgot her key. He was just wearing pair of sweat pants as he strode to the door. Unbolting it and opening it as quickly as he could, finding a man on other side. Whoever he was he didn't look happy to see Victor.

Douglas hadn't slept much the night before which had left him tired and frustrated. He kept seeing Miriam eating dinner with a faceless man. Since he knew Miriam's phone number, looking up her address was easy enough. The last thing he expected was for a guy to open the door half dressed.

"Where is she?" the question was barked as Douglas glanced at the man in front of him. He was about five foot eight, reddish hair freckles and looked as if he'd just gotten out of bed.

Victor had no idea who this guy was, why he was here, and was still trying to wake up. "Miriam?" he asked thinking this guy must have the wrong apartment.

"Who else? Of course Ms. O'Connell," he hated the way this guy said her name with such familiarity.

"She's not here right now. Hey you're Curtis right?" it finally clicked. Miriam had described him exactly, from his jet black curly hair, to intense stormy blue eyes, and towering six feet plus in height. Right now Victor just wanted to slam the door in this guy's face and make sure Miriam never knew he had been there.

"Mr. Curtis," he stifled his anger, he wanted to kill this guy for spending the night with Miriam. He blanked out the images that threatened to overload his sanity. "Never mind, I'll catch her at work then." He turned suddenly and stomped off. He never should have came to her place. He was just asking for pain. Douglas sat in his car for a while trying to calm down. He couldn't get her out of his mind, and the thought of her with someone else made him angry. Angry with himself for not realizing sooner how great she was both at work and when he had been stressed and she rubbed his back. Promising to himself that he'd put her behind him, he shook his head, turned his car on, and drove home.

"Lars, I'm really not interested," she said for tenth time picking up her towel and slinging it over her shoulder. All the tension that had finally dissipated during workout was suddenly overwhelming her.

His hand was on her arm, and she reacted instantly flipping him over onto mat. She had never been mugged but she had taken self defense classes when she moved to city, partly because she enjoyed her independence and partly to shed the last few pounds that were reminder of her last failed relationship. She had succeeded packing a lot of force into her five foot two inch frame.

He smiled, "So you like to be on top?" She let go with disgust; everything was about sex to this man. Miriam knew he had bedded half the females in the class already. It was only her resistance that made him pursue her.

"I'm seeing someone," she softly whispered wishing it were true with all her heart, seeing the dark rumpled hair and blue eyes flash before her. "I'd better get home before he misses me." She thought of her cousin as she left, forgoing the shower. It would have to wait until she got home.

She opened her door to a delicious smell; not noticing the door was already unlocked. Victor was in her kitchenette making omelets. "That looks great," her stomach rumbled she had barely eaten this morning and it was catching up to her.

"I made enough for you," he smiled seeing sadness lurking in her eyes.

"I'm just going to clean up. Give me ten minutes." She went into bathroom and took a quickie shower trying to rinse away the pain and memories. Sliding into her clothes, she padded out to living area.

"You're quite the surprise this weekend, so when do you have to be back at the airport?" she asked digging into her food with a gusto Victor was glad to see.

"Two o'clock," he mumbled with his mouth full, glad she hadn't been here when Mr. Curtis had shown up.

She continued eating, perhaps having Victor around today wasn't that bad. "Wish you were able to stay longer," she said before reaching for a glass of orange juice.

"Me too," he said as he was trying to eat toast and talk at same time.

She laughed at his antics, "Did you sleep well?" buttering her toast as she talked.

"Like a baby," he saw the smile, and was glad she was finally feeling better.

"You snored like one too," she giggled, "I was going to record it but didn't want to wake you."

"Do not," he said pouting, and then smiled, this was the Miriam he remembered, always able to sound serious and make a joke at same time. The day sped past as she enjoyed his company. Driving to the airport she realized how much she missed a man's company even if it was just her cousin.

Sunday morning she woke up feeling sick, she ran to bathroom and began emptying what was left in her stomach. It seemed like an eternity passed while she was hung over the toilet. She looked at herself in mirror, God she looked like hell she thought. Miriam wondered what was going on, she wasn't hung over, she couldn't be pregnant, and so something else must be wrong. She managed to make it to the phone and called her doctor. Never having been sick a day in her life she was worried. Miriam called into work the next day, she still felt like hell. She barely dragged herself to the doctor's office and his diagnosis stunned her.

"Stress, Ms. O'Connell, there's nothing physically wrong with you. I can prescribe something to help you sleep and to calm your stomach. That's it, I suggest lot's of rest, take a vacation, take long baths, something, anything and soon." She took the news well considering she hadn't eaten since Saturday night.

Once at home, she called work and took the week off. She took time to change her answering machine message and went back to sleep. By Wednesday, she almost felt human again, she managed to stomach some mild soup, but every muscle in her body ached.

Douglas was nervous; he hadn't heard anything about Ms. O'Connell. He had been tense all week, the temp was completely incompetent, and he missed Miriam terribly. He called Jordan the man she was working for now, when he told him that she was using sick leave, Douglas cursed himself for not checking up on her sooner. Dialing her home he heard her raspy voice pick up and starting talking. Then he realized he had poured his heart out to damn answering machine when the beep went off. He slammed down phone wondering if Vic was taking good care of her. He left his office with no explanation, as flower shop loomed in his vision he decided to stop. He had never bought flowers; Miriam had always taken care of that sort of thing for him. It was funny his friends said he was a whiz at breaking up, he was so good the women felt better after he dumped them. He hadn't thought it was Miriam's touch with flowers, until now. Douglas was at a loss; roses were too romantic, tulips trite, daffodils? He searched through flowers, wasting precious time. When the florist suggested carnations he nodded. What was her favorite color? He wracked his mind. Finally settling on pure white with red edges. Time seemed to slow down as he drove to her place. Taking the stairs three at a time unwilling to wait for an elevator. He was breathless as he stood in front of her door. Running his fingers through his thick black hair, trying to sort out his thoughts and feelings, he knocked on door.

She was just beginning to feel better. Miriam had managed to hold breakfast down and now was soaking in a decadent bath. Relaxing, still feeling weak and somewhat tired. Sleep had become more elusive than ever, as she was either hungry, thirsty, throwing up, or going to bathroom.

The knock on the door disturbed her brief moment peace. At first she ignored it, after all who even knew she was home?

He was getting worried, she wasn't answering door. Was she passed out on floor unable to move? His mind was filled with such thoughts as he considered breaking down the damn door.

They knocking continued getting louder and she slowly rose from water. Taking unsteady steps before wrapping herself up in nearest towel. "I'm coming," she softly rasped, her voice still recovering. She stood in front of door feeling slightly off kilter. "Who is it?" she asked her voice barely above a whisper.

"It's Douglas," he muttered, she sounded odd to him. He felt foolish standing in front of a closed door holding a dozen carnations.

She was puzzled, as she didn't know anyone named Douglas, even though the voice sounded familiar. "Who?" she asked trying to figure out the voice.

"Douglas Curtis," he almost crushed the flowers in his hand.

"Mr. Curtis?" her voice softly broke through she slowly opened door seeing him. "Please, come in," she forgot she was wearing only a towel as she let him in. His eyes nearly dropped out of his sockets as he saw her garbed only in a thin little towel. Only then did she feel his eyes upon her and realize how inappropriately she was dressed. "I'll go put something on," her voice still soft as she moved to her bedroom.

Her face felt hot, what was she thinking? Inviting him in when she wasn't properly dressed. Miriam still wasn't feeling one hundred percent. She slide towel off and pulled a simple T-shirt on not wanting to bother with a bra. Miriam slide on a pair of panties and sweat pants. Ugh, she thought what did he want now? She tried to collect her thoughts as she went back into living area. He was pacing with a dozen flowers in his hand.

"Can I help you with something?"

He glanced at her seeing her clothed, his eyes lingering on her hanging breasts. "These are for you," he thrust the flowers forward.

It took a while for her to comprehend his words, and then carefully took the bouquet. She moved to kitchenette and found a vase, filled it with water and looked back at him. He seemed to be staring at her as if seeing her for the first time.

"I was wondering how you were feeling," he asked looking around feeling very foolish.

"Better, I'll probably make it in for work tomorrow." She felt ill at ease; Mr. Curtis was sitting on her couch in her home. What did he want and why did he bring flowers? Miriam was still puzzling it out when he stood and moved towards her.

"Where's Vic?" the name was enunciated and clipped.

She felt even more confused, "He left Saturday afternoon. Why?" she said turning to fridge. Getting herself something to drink. Anything that would soothe her throat and give her excuse to not look into his intense blue eyes.

Douglas ran his fingers through his hair and took a ragged breath. "When will he be back?" he questioned not wanting to be interrupted once he started.