Chapter Three
Spencer
While Tabitha leads me down yet another hallway, this time on the sixth floor, she still refuses to share the secret with me. What sort of room is she dragging me to? If she wants to murder me, I doubt she”ll find a place private enough for that. And if she”s trying to frighten me away, that also won”t work. But no, I don”t believe she has either of those possibilities in mind.
I do love a good mystery. Still, I”m beginning to wonder about this woman. She might be a lunatic in disguise. ”May I have some sort of clue to where you”re taking me? I am your boss, after all. I could demand answers.”
”Sure, you could. But you won”t.”
”You think you know me that well after a few hours?” I”m struggling to keep up with her, despite the fact she”s wearing high heels. How can this woman run in stilettos? She”s amazingly athletic. That”s the only explanation. ”You must be taking me to the loo. I don”t see anywhere else we could be going.”
”No, it”s not the bathroom. Although, that is a vital room to know the location of.” Tabitha stops walking so she can get out her tablet and tap her fingers over its screen. ”There. I just emailed you a list of the restrooms in this building and where you can find them.”
”I appreciate that. But I do need to know---”
”We”re here.” Tabitha has halted in front of a set of double doors that are currently shut. ”Can you guess what this room is?”
”Even I”m not that dense. I can read the big, bold letters on the door---CAFETERIA.”
”Good boy. Now, I”m going to introduce you to American food.” She pushes the doors open and steps inside just far enough that the doors won”t smack into our arses. And she glances around as if she”s hunting for something or someone. Finally, she grins and waves for me to follow her. ”Come on, Spencer, this way.”
”Yes, I”m coming.”
But I need to jog to catch up to her. How can she move so fast in those heels? I still can”t comprehend it. That”s hardly my worst problem right now. I can”t stop staring at her arse, the way those cheeks move, the way her hips are swaying. Tabitha has the most delectable bottom. Her entire body is deliciously sexy, and when she glances back to smile at me and hurry me up, those lips make me want to push her up against the nearest wall and devour her.
That”s barmy. I”m a businessman, not a lecherous cretin.
Fortunately, I catch up to Tabitha and walk alongside her as we approach an empty table in the far corner of the cafeteria. It”s hidden behind a large potted plant that almost qualifies as a tree. Yes, we now have privacy.
Bloody hell.
I pull out a chair for Tabitha. She smiles and sits down. But when I try to take the chair opposite her, she yanks it away before I can even think about sitting on it. I give in and sit beside her.
”Much better,” she says. ”We can talk more easily this way.”
”Lunch is for eating.”
”And conversation. Didn”t your family talk during meals?”
”Well, yes, but---”
She brings out her tablet and dances her fingertips over the screen. Then she turns it toward me. ”Here”s your menu.”
”Cafeterias don”t have those, do they? I suppose the American versions are different.” I rewind my thoughts to a moment ago and experience a sudden realization. ”No one else has a menu.”
”That”s right. The peons have to stand in line.” She thrusts the tablet at me. ”Bigwigs get special treatment.”
”But I don”t want to be treated differently. If everyone else waits in the queue for their food, I will do that too.”
”Are you sure? This is one of your job perks.”
Staring at her arse and those dimples are all the perks I need, but I”ll keep that to myself. ”Please, Tabitha, I”d rather not receive special treatment.”
”Okay.” She returns her tablet to her purse. ”Let”s get in line, then.”
”Thank you.” I stand up and pull her chair out again. ”You should lead the way. I have no idea which foods are edible. And you did promise to introduce me to American food, though I”m not sure such a creature exists.”
”Food isn”t a creature.” She wrinkles her nose. ”Unless you forget to clean out your fridge and alien spores take over.”
I can”t stop myself from chuckling. This woman might be barmy, but she”s also beautiful, adorable, and clever. How did I get so lucky and win the best-assistant raffle? ”I don”t see any spores of any sort, so I think we”re safe. But I honestly have no idea what qualifies as ”American food.” Now, we Brits do have our own unique types of dishes. I doubt you”ve ever tried black pudding.”
”No, but I”ve heard of it. Wouldn”t mind trying it sometime.”
”You”re adventurous, aren”t you?”
”Mm-hm. It”s wired into my DNA.”
We reach the cafeteria queue just in time since I notice a large group heading this way. They just pushed through the doors. We”ve already claimed our position in the queue, thankfully. My stomach has begun to grumble.
Tabitha pokes my belly with one finger. ”You”re one hungry fella, aren”t you?”
”Well, I did forgo breakfast this morning.”
As we shuffle forward two paces, she studies me with a look of concern. ”Are you feeling all right?”
”Right as rain. But I was anxious this morning, so I skipped breakfast. I did have some coffee, though.”
”Coffee is not food.” She wags a finger at me and clucks her tongue. ”Come on, Spencer, be a good boy from now on and eat three square meals a day. A hardworking executive needs nourishment.”
”Were you once a kindergarten teacher? You have that sort of way about you.”
Tabitha leans against the edge of the counter. ”I”ve been called childish before, so I guess that means I”m qualified to teach little kids. But I never have done that.”
”My sister, Bindy, has children. They”re sweet and lovable, but they do have a rambunctious side. My brother, Kendall, used to hide in the kitchen whenever Bindy brought the kids to a family event.”
We move forward a few paces, though not quite near enough to steal any food. But I don”t mind the wait. It gives me a chance to chat to Tabitha. And that reminds me of a question I”ve meant to ask her. ”I”ve never met someone called Tabitha before. Do you like to be called Tabby?”
”Not really. I prefer the full version at work, and only my family uses the shortened version. Do you have a nickname?”
”My family and mates call me Spence.”
”That”s a sexy nickname. Tabby just sounds like I”m a cat.” As the line moves forward a few more paces, she explains, ”My mom has always loved that old television show Bewitched. When she was a little girl, she watched that TV series all the time. The main character”s daughter was called Tabitha.”
”And so, your mum christened you with that name.”
”Yep. When I was a kid, I hated it because boys used to tease me about it.” Her lips curl into the barest of smiles. ”Those twerps would shout ”here, kitty, kitty” in the halls just to annoy me. It didn”t work. Even when one little toad put a can of cat food in my locker, I didn”t give the bullies what they wanted.”
”I can”t picture you giving in to that sort of provocation.” We”ve just reached the food now, so I grab two trays for us, handing one to Tabitha. ”What did you do with the cat food?”
Her smile turns a touch wicked. ”The can had a pop-top, so I opened it up and ate a little bit of it.”
I can”t stop my lip from curling. ”You ate cat food? That stuff looks and smells like rotting rubbish.”
She shrugs. ”It was disgusting. But I shut that toad up, and nobody ever harassed me about my name again.”
”You are an amazing woman, Tabitha.”
When she smiles at me again, I feel a strange sensation of warmth in my chest. It isn”t unpleasant. In fact, it”s invigorating.
”Hey, slow poke!” a male voice shouts. ”Move your ass. We”ve got hungry people here, and you”re clogging up the line.”
I wince. ”Sorry. We”ll get moving.”
Tabitha slaps her tray down on the metal rails, and the sound echoes through the room. Then she spins around and sets her hands on her hips. ”Listen up, loudmouth. You just insulted the new chief of risk analysis. And you don”t look like you”re malnourished, so keep your trap shut.”
She faces me, gesturing toward the rails. ”Go on, Spencer. Get your food.”
”Ladies first. Especially if that woman is you.” While she starts gathering her meal items, I glance back at the tosser who had been in such a bloody hurry. He actually seems chagrined. I shuffle closer to Tabitha. ”Not that I”m ungrateful, but everyone heard what you said. They might think I”m a weakling who needs his assistant to fight his battles.”
”Don”t worry about that. The guy who yelled at you is a coder. Every single one of those jerks thinks they”ll be the next Steve Jobs. If you watch, you”ll see that he and his cronies hide in the corner to eat their lunch. They aren”t popular.”
”Still, I would prefer to fight my own battles. If that”s all right with you.”
”Of course. I”m sorry if I butted my nose in where it didn”t belong.”
”Nothing of the sort. I appreciate your support.”
We finally select our meal items and return to our secluded little table.
I”ve learned one vital fact today. Tabitha Remington is quite a woman.