“Yeah.” He latched on to the handy excuse, which he’d have thought of all by himself if his head was where it should be—on his shoulders and not imagining itself between her thighs. “That’s why I’m so absentminded. Work was hellacious.”
“Then let’s go.” She ducked into the room to grab her bag and sling it over her forearm. “I’m dying to hear about the Marketing meeting and anyway, I’m starving. So where are you taking me?”
His response was cut off by a vaguely familiar ringtone emanating from the depths of Meredith’s handbag. She fished out her phone and all traces of merriment drained from her face.
“It’s Avery,” she whispered. “Should I answer?”
“Of course.” He crossed his arms as she said hello and listened for a beat.
“Sure. No problem. I’ll be there in a few minutes.” Meredith stabbed the phone to end the call. “She wants me to come back to the office. It’s about her hushity-hush after-hours thingy.”
Jason willed back the flood of disappointment. “That’s great. Perfect timing.”
He’d actually been looking forward to taking Meredith to dinner, never mind that it had originated as a way to save face.
He’d thought seriously about finding some out-of-the-way place and asking for a booth in the back with low lighting, ordering a bottle of wine and spending a couple of hours not thinking about the media circus of Lyn Couture. They’d laugh and flirt and enjoy each other’s company. Which sounded an awful lot like a date. That was a bad, bad idea. Avery’s timing was perfect.
Meredith made a face. “But what about eating?”
“This is more important.” And a far better use of her time. Lyn and Hurst House were not going to spontaneously regroup, and he’d worked too hard to let what little gains he’d made slip away now. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll drive you and wait in the car. It can’t take more than an hour or so. Then, when you’re done, we’ll go to a late dinner.”
Where had that come from? He should tell her good-night. But she’d looked so crestfallen, as if she’d experienced a bout of disappointment over Avery’s call, as well. He couldn’t help himself.
And he was too tired to pretend he didn’t want to lose himself in her.
She cocked her head and contemplated him with a small smile. “You’d do that? And here I thought going out was simply an excuse to get us into a public place so I couldn’t take advantage of you. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you meant the dinner invitation as a date.”
“It’s not a date,” he growled. She definitely had some insight that allowed her to read his thoughts like a book and he did not like it. “And yes, I’ll wait for you because I will want you to repeat every word Avery says verbatim. The sooner, the better.”
“Of course.” She hooked arms with him as they walked to the elevator and bent her head to breathe directly into his ear. “And I’m just here for the clothes.”
* * *
Jason glanced at his watch, but only three minutes had passed since the last time he’d checked.
What was taking so long? Meredith had climbed from his car an hour and a half ago, with a parting squeeze to his thigh that still tingled. He’d tried to work on a strategy brief that needed to go out to the executive staff on Monday, but the only strategy on his mind was Avery’s.
His cell phone beeped and he turned it over to see a text from Meredith. With a frown, he tapped it: Avery left and the place is deserted. You’ve got to come up here and see this.
Craning his neck, he searched the teeming sidewalk for his sister’s profile, but he couldn’t spot her amid all the foot traffic typical for 9th Street at this time of night. She must have already caught a cab.
What was so important for him to see that Meredith couldn’t either tell him about it or take a picture?
He texted her back: What is it?
Meredith: I’m not sure. That’s why I need you to look at it.
Jason: You can’t just tell me?
Meredith: No, I need you. And I can’t disturb the evidence.
And now she’d piqued his curiosity, which probably wasn’t an accident.
Did he dare enter the sanctum of his father and Avery? He’d been inside Hurst one time, to attend a meeting nailing down the final details of the split. It had been upsetting to see former Lynhurst employees walking the halls, chatting and laughing as if nothing catastrophic had happened. Then he and Bettina had run into Caozinha Carvalho, the famed photographer who was also his father’s new wife, on the way out. His mother had cried in the car on the way back to Lyn.