“I, eh, uh….” I tried to think of an excuse, but drew a complete and total blank. Finally I went with, “You have a couch in your bathroom.” Yep, that gem was all mine.

“I do. And you’re in here, why?”

I let out an embarrassed laugh and hung my head in shame. There really was no excuse for this. It was like, when you see a giraffe walking by, you’re more than likely at the zoo. This was me taking liberties plain as day. Wincing, I decided to go with honesty and face the consequences. “I’m really sorry. I was looking around your office and saw that you had a couch in your bathroom and that your bathroom is swankier than any bathroom I’ve ever been in, and I just couldn’t help myself.”

Oh, God, somebody gag my verbal diarrhoea, please.

I stared at King. King stared at me. His expression was indecipherable until he shook his head and let out a gentle laugh. Then he surprised the shit out of me when he closed the door, stepped inside, and dropped down beside me. He threw his arms up and rested his head in his hands, kicking his legs out.

“It is quite swanky in here,” he allowed.

A beat of silence elapsed before I had to ask, “Am I fired?”

King’s eyes slid to mine as he let out a long sigh. I thought he might be enjoying making me sweat before he finally answered, “Luckily for you, I’m in a decidedly good mood today, so no, you’re not fired. I’d appreciate it, though, if you let me know the next time you feel like eating lunch in my bathroom. I could have been in here taking a shower.” He grinned at me before putting on a face of mock horror. “Or, God forbid, having a number two.”

He whispered the words “number two,” and I burst out laughing. I swear, it was the last thing I’d expected him to say. He was pretty funny when he wanted to be.

I swiped my fingers over my heart. “Okay, cross my heart, I’ll give you notice the next time. Number twos are not something I want to witness.”

He waggled his brow and leaned in a fraction closer, bumping my shoulder with his. “Ah, but you wouldn’t be adverse to a shower?”

His question took me by surprise, and I was doubly surprised by the faintly heated look he gave me. My surprise, combined with my frazzlement, caused me to blurt out a whopper of a lie. “Oh, well, being a lesbian and all, seeing you in the buff wouldn’t really bother me.”

Why, why, why, Alexis? Why did you say that?

King eyed me shrewdly, his expression incredulous. “You’re gay…seriously?”

I pursed my lips together and swallowed. Now that the lie was out, there was no taking it back. Then I’d have to come up with a reason for lying, and that would mean telling him the way he looked at me made me have some very unprofessional thoughts about him. And yeah, no way was I doing that. No way.

“Yep. Gay as a…spring day on the first of May.”

Jesus. I had no idea where that weirdness had just spewed from. He studied my features, and I didn’t know what he was going to say next. Then he gave me a playful grin before asking brazenly, “Always or mostly?”

The cheeky little…I stared at him head on and continued lying. “Always.”

I wasn’t sure, but I thought I saw a flicker of disappointment in his eyes. “Oh, well, at least this means we’re ticking a box in the old equal opportunities survey.” I could tell by his tone that he was joking. But still, I needed to change the subject. Perhaps he’d forget about the lie. After all, he was a busy man and surely took in a lot of new information on a daily basis. Perhaps the “Alexis being a lesbian” info would get lost amid the masses.

“You have a picture of Elaine King in your office,” I said. “Any relation?”

His expression grew clouded, his demeanour more serious now as he answered soberly, “Yes, she’s my mother.”

“Wow. That’s some talented gene pool you come from. Do you play piano, too?”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Yes, actually. Mum began teaching me as a boy. Of course, I play purely for recreation. Mum is the star.”

“She’s very beautiful,” I added.

“Yes,” King agreed, frowning. “She is. It’s a pity the world doesn’t get to see it anymore.”

I wanted to ask him why that was, but I didn’t want to pry. Besides, I’d succeeded in changing the subject, and that was good enough for me. I wrapped up the last of my sandwich, got up from the couch, and gave him a friendly smile. “Well, Cambridge, I’d better get back to work. No rest for the wicked.”

He narrowed his gaze playfully, and I was relieved to see the humour return to his features. I didn’t like him sad and serious. “Let’s leave Cambridge out of it. It’s Mr King to you, Oliver at a push.”

“How do you feel about Cambo?”

One eyebrow shot up as he joked, “Cambo as in Cambodia?”

“Nah, Cambo as in, I came all over your boobs.”

What I’d said was probably pushing the limits of boss/employee appropriate chitchat, but he’d been overstepping the boundaries just as much as I had during our short time in the bathroom. Therefore, I wasn’t as worried about his reaction as I might have been.

I’ll give him credit — King didn’t miss a beat as he laughed loudly and shook his head. “Oh, my God, you really are a lesbian.”

Three

The rest of my first week went by, and I didn’t see much of King. The man was one busy banker. However, on Wednesday, the day after our bathroom chat, I arrived back from my morning break to find a Post-It note stuck to my keyboard. It was from my boss. He had really messy handwriting, but I managed to make it out nonetheless. It read: