“I don't know what -,”

“Bring it here, Ms. O'Shea, now,” he ordered, tapping the table top with his pen. She glared at him.

Fuck this.

She turned around and pulled one of the silver trays in front of her. She laid her panties out neatly on top, making sure the material was smooth and flat. She was very thankful that she had gone all out and worn her good, expensive, “I'm-successful-and-career-oriented!”, underwear. She balanced the tray on top of her fingertips and spun around, striding towards their table, a big smile on her face.

“For you, Mr. Kane,” she said in a breathy voice, and then dropped the tray in front of him. It clattered loudly and spun around a little before coming to a rest, the panties sliding off to one side.

As she walked away, she could hear some gasps. A couple laughs. A very familiar chuckle. When she got to the door, she pulled it open and then turned back to the room. A couple of the lawyers were gawking at her, and the rest were laughing, gesturing to the display she had just put on; Jameson was looking straight at her, his smirk in place. She blew him a kiss and then stomped out the door.

*

A couple hours later, Tate sat on the edge of her bed, staring at her closet. She should have been getting ready for work. She had promised to do a shift at the bar for one of the other girls, Tuesday was usually her day off. She had taken a shower, tried to motivate herself to get dressed, but after the afternoon she'd had, she really didn't want to get sexy-ed up and go sling drinks. She sighed.

Get over it. Rent is due.

She began yanking out clothing, not paying attention to what she picked out. Her mind kept wandering back to the conference room. Tate had grown pretty bold over the years, very confident in herself and her sexuality, but she had never done something like that before; had never stripped in a room full of people.

How was it possible that he still had that kind of power over her? One time. They had been together only one time, it wasn't fair. And weirder still – why did it seem like he was pursuing her? Jameson Kane didn't pursue anybody, not even seven years ago. Ellie had asked him out. He had certainly never pursued Tate. She had all but fallen on his dick that night, she'd been so eager for him. She shook her head back and forth, trying to clear her thoughts.

Never again. I am never going to think of Jameson Kane, never -,

“Tate!” Rusty's voice squealed through her door.

“What? It's open,” Tate called out, dropping the towel she had been wearing and shimmying in to a pair of sweat pants. Her door cracked open and Rus peaked her head around the corner.

“There is some guy here to see you,” she said in an excited voice. Tate scrunched her eyebrows together. Some guy?

“Who? What does he want?” she asked, pulling on a t-shirt and then yanking her damp hair up in to a ponytail.

“I don't know who he is, but he is so good looking, I can't believe he's real life. He's wearing some expensive looking suit,” Rus described. Tate groaned, rubbing her hands over her face.

“Jesus! What, is he stalking me now!?” she moaned.

“No,” a deep voice came from her doorway. She looked up.

Jameson Kane is in my piece of shit apartment.

“Make yourself at home,” she sighed, gesturing for him to come in to her room. Rus giggled and turned bright red, making room for him and then scurrying out the door.

“She's cute,” Jameson commented as he wandered around the tiny room, inspecting things.

“Oh really? Want to eat her for breakfast, too?” Tate asked. Jameson laughed, leaning close to a photo.

“Hmmm, not really my tastes. I'm hungering for something a little darker,” he replied. Tate narrowed her eyes.

“Well, that 'something' isn't on the menu,” she informed him. He stood upright and faced her.

“We'll see about that.”

“Seriously. What the fuck do you want?” she snapped at him. He raised an eyebrow.

“Attitude. I like it. Where's all that shit you normally have around your eyes?” he asked, walking towards her. She started to back up but then stopped, holding her ground.

“I was just about to put all that shit back on when I was interrupted by a conceited asshole,” she replied.

“Look. I want to talk to you. We haven't seen each other in a long time. You ..., intrigue me. Not much does anymore,” he explained a little.

“Intrigue?”

“You're so different, but still kind of the same. It's interesting. I'm curious to see how deep both go,” he added. She sighed.

“Look, Kane, you don't just get to decide -,”

“Jameson,” he corrected her. She blinked at him.

“Excuse me?”

“Jameson. That's my name. Call me by my name,” he instructed her.

“But everyone calls you Kane. All those lawyers today, my sister, everyone,” Tate replied, a little lost in the conversation. He shook his head.

“I don't care. You always called me Jameson. Say it again,” he ordered. She laughed.

“Okay, play time is over. Get out of my apartment. I'm very flattered that you think you want to know something about me, but I don't really give two fucks. I don't want anything to do with you. You are nothing to me. So thank you, and goodbye,” she stated, gesturing towards her door.

Jameson watched her for a second and then walked towards her, his steps slow and deliberate. She refused to back away, so they wound up almost chest to chest. Not quite touching, but close enough that he sucked all the oxygen out of her. She stared up at him, rubbing her lips together so she wouldn't blurt out the thoughts in her head.