Meeting at Midnight by Eileen Wilks

days.
    â€œJust let me get my jacket and purse,” she said, and headed for the hall.
    â€œI’d better be going, too,” Duncan said, carrying his mugover to the sink. “What are you getting at the building supply store?”
    â€œWe’re going to put up some shelves in my office here.”
    â€œI take it the ‘we’ means you’re supervising?”
    â€œAll right, she’s going to put them up. I’m not taking advantage of her. She’s keen on all this home fixup and decorating stuff.”
    â€œHmm.” He stuck his mug in the dishwasher. “I owe Seely a thank-you.”
    â€œI’ll tell her you enjoyed the coffee.”
    He slanted me an amused glance. “I didn’t mean for the coffee.”
    Â 
    It felt weird to sit in the passenger seat of my own car.
    The Chevy was backup transportation, nearly ten years old but in good shape. Power windows, doors and steering; bench seats and a big back seat…big enough to give me some impractical ideas. Sexual frustration was bringing out the adolescent in me.
    Seely drove with the same unrushed efficiency she did everything else. “I still don’t know how I let you talk me into taking you by the office. You aren’t supposed to be working yet.”
    I pointed out that I hadn’t worked—I’d just checked on the work others were doing. I hadn’t even insisted on going to the Pearson site.
    She grinned. “I suppose you think you get Brownie points for that.”
    â€œI ought to.” If sexual frustration was robbing her of sleep and nudging stupid ideas into her head, it didn’t show.
    â€œYou’re staring at me.”
    â€œI like looking at you.”
    The faintest flush mounted her cheeks. Maybe I shouldn’thave said anything. I’d been careful not to since letting her know my intentions. That was the right thing to do. Sexual innuendos were out of place while she was working for me. Besides, self-preservation called for restraint. I had to keep my eye on the line I’d drawn, or I’d find myself tumbling off another edge.
    But I liked seeing that flush.
    I’d spent too much time the past three days trying to figure out what was going on in her head. We had something strong and hot flowing between us. I knew that much because I’d caught her looking at me a few times, too. At twenty, I’d have assumed that meant she agreed with me, that she wanted to have an affair as soon as the employer-employee thing was out of the way.
    At forty, I knew better.
    At least she hadn’t told me to forget it. I figured she was still making up her mind about me. I didn’t say anything else until she’d shut off the engine, hoping she’d spend the time thinking about the heat between us.
    I pushed open my door. “You sure you want to tackle this? Putting up shelves isn’t easy. Goes a lot better with two people, and I won’t be able to help much.”
    â€œYou won’t be helping at all,” she retorted, coming around the car.
    I made a noncommittal noise. No point in mentioning that there would be parts of the job where two pairs of hands would be necessary.
    She matched her pace to mine—which was slow. I didn’t limp anymore as long as I didn’t try to outrace a snail. “This is my chance to learn from an expert,” she said. “I’m not about to pass that up.”
    â€œWell, the expert suggests we get red oak. It’s not easy towork with, but it should look great.” I paused, considering the state of my office. “Eventually.”
    â€œIt is a bit of a mess in there.”
    I grunted. The doors opened for us and I crept along to the left, where the lumber was stacked. I’d pick out the wood myself, that being the reason for this trip. Well, that and a bad case of cabin fever. We wouldn’t be able to take it home today, obviously, since I didn’t have a truck.
    And