His door was barely open, light slivering between the jamb and the knob, thin as the line dividing flesh from garter. From inside, a strangled bark of laughter—Jackal’s. A different sound from when I made him laugh. I leaned my head closer and heard the crash of something falling from his desk to the ground and then the erotic hoot of a woman trying too hard. The sound made me tired. It was a nice thing to believe about myself after Ellen, that my instinct for sisterhood wasn’t quite dead.

I listened, wondering what else I was going to hear—when you go to the trouble of listening at mostly closed doors, you do have certain expectations—wondering, too, what I would feel when I heard it. The fresh zhish of a zipper, the giggles swallowed between two mouths.

Jackal groaned, and I bit my lip, tasted blood. A feeling like a cold cloud of stars exploding in my stomach. I pressed a hand against the door and rested my cheek on it.

I let the fleshy sounds go on for a few minutes before I tipped the door farther open. Jackal had kept only one light on, a desk lamp, and it looked like his paramour had attempted to fling a scarf over it to create a mood. She’d misjudged, and the scarf piled on Jackal’s carpet. The girl was propped on his desk, her feet pushing against the desk chair’s arms for leverage. Jackal’s fist formed a ponytail in her long dark hair, his own body jammed between her and the chair. His pants were still creased in the back, and every time she tried to catch hold of his shirt, Jackal jerked away, not willing to grub up his starch. Fastidious, even in his one-night stands.

He moaned a name, too low for me to catch, and tugged the ponytail to one side so I had a clear view. Young, fox-pretty face, thick brows like slashes across her forehead. Lots of dark hair. Looked like me back when I’d started working in the office. I pictured sticky vinyl lips and realized she looked a bit, too, like the woman who had been retired. Jackal’s ex. I shuddered. He had a type.

From her position on the desk, Jackal’s new girl had a straight shot at my face, if she wanted it. But Jackal was good at this, I knew firsthand. She didn’t look up until the whole thing came to the rather expected end. Jackal finally stepped back, tucking himself back into his pants, and she caught sight of me. The brunette shrieked and covered her unbuttoned chest with her hands, glaring at me.

“Feel better now?” I asked him.

“Robert, what is she doing here? Was she watching us?”

Jackal was still breathing heavy, but his eyes met mine, ember-hot. “Babe, I didn’t know you were there.”