“Jenna...” He was breathless and stunned. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Without saying a word, I started up the bath. A second later, there was a quick pounding on the door.
“I’m serious, Jenna—get out of there!”
“Oh, you’re serious?” I called sarcastically. “You’re serious now?!”
There was a noisy splash and the pounding instantly stopped.
“...what are you doing?”
Another splash.
“Jenna—what are you doing?”
I smirked. “Just dropping your shoes in the tub. I hope it doesn’t ruin them,” I held one up for examination, “they look pretty expensive...”
Dead silence.
“Are you fucking with me?”
Another splash.
“Jenna—stop. Let me in!”
“The thing is, Mikey, you don’t seem to have any problem invading other people’s personal space, messing with their lives... So why not return the favor?”
Another splash and the pounding resumed.
“I can’t believe this! You are being so childish right now—let me in!”
“How do you pronounce this? Armany? Armanii? Oh well, doesn’t matter.”
Splash.
There was a combination of laughter and swearing, followed by a muted thud as he leaned his head against the door. “I’m sorry—okay? Is that what you want? I’m sorry.”
“You’re not going to send down any more Russian strippers to freak me out?”
“Tatiana is not a stripper. She happens to be a very talented—”
Splash.
“Okay, okay!” he conceded. “No more Russians.”
“And your pants?”
“What about them?”
I dangled a shoe precariously over the tub. “You’re going to leave them on?”
He sighed. “If that’s what you wish.”
“It is.”
“Then fine... Although I have to say, we would have made a great—”
SPLASH!
“Jenna, please!” He laughed. “I promise, okay? Open the door!”
I did open it. With my toe.
He was wearing an expression of both extreme amusement and bewilderment. The whole room seemed to pause. We stared at each other for a long time, a very long time, before his eyes finally wandered past me to the tub.
“You actually did it,” he said mildly, raising his eyebrows as he gazed inside. “You actually drowned my shoe collection.”
“Not all of them,” I admitted, standing guiltily in the center of the pile. “The ones that you wore to the royal coronation I decided to spare.”
He grinned and began slowly fishing them out. “That was sporting of you.”
I nodded graciously and headed downstairs. “So I’m going to start working on Hong Kong. You coming?”
“I’ll be down in a minute,” he called. “I’m just going to put on a shirt...”
* * *
The rest of the day passed more or less without incident. It was like a switch had been flipped. Michael was still flirty—I think he was just naturally built that way—but there was nothing behind it. In fact, it was a fun way to pass the time—trading insults, jokes, and jabs as we flew through a daunting amount of paperwork in an incredibly short amount of time.
Despite his every effort to avoid work while at the office, I had to admit I was wrong when I said that Michael didn’t strike me as a businessman before. He had an absolutely brilliant mind. Whenever we ran into an impasse or some sort of problem neither side could agree upon, he would get up and pace, and a second later, sit back down with the perfect solution. Much as I hated to say it—he was both an invaluable help and wonderful company at the same time.
Of course, I credited myself with this. Shoes in the bathtub. Worked every time.
“Jen, you want some iced tea or something?” he called from the kitchen.
We were about a third of the way through the first draft and hadn’t gotten up for hours.
“That actually sounds great—thanks!” I called back, typing away as fast as my fingers would let me. “Hey, what do you think of Zhang’s idea to cut the first round of samples?”
He set two glasses down on the table and settled back on the couch beside me. “I think Zhang’s a greedy little bastard, and he and his samples can go fuck themselves.”