What If I Never (Necklace Trilogy 1)

“Sounds wonderful,” I say. “Thank you. I didn’t know the coffee bar was already open.” I sip and the warm, wonderful, sweet beverage touches my tongue, my eyes lighting as I say, “I approve.”

She smiles her pleasure, and says, “Oh good. I thought you would. Anyone who doesn’t like this cup of coffee is just not right, you know?”

I laugh. “Yes,” I agree conspiratorially. “There is something not right about someone who doesn’t like coffee. Of course, the non-coffee lovers probably say that about us, too.”

She waves that off. “Oh pooh on them. They don’t know what they’re talking about,” she grins before she adds, “and the coffee bar just opened.”

“Good to know,” I say, eyeing the clock for reference and then asking, “and what’s with the boss lady? What in the world did I do to earn that nickname?”

“Debbie called me at ten last night to tell me that one of the girls from accounting is covering the front desk. I’m all yours until the auction is over.”

I’m stunned with just how quickly Tyler has worked, and how much support this shows for my efforts. It’s actually quite shocking after I’d laid in bed last night thinking that I’d pushed him too hard and too far. I’d worried I’d end up without a job today. Worry that some might say is unreasonable, considering I have a job in New York. Nevertheless, there is no denying my relief.

“That’s excellent news,” I say. “Let’s get started.” And with that, I dive into training my new employee with a zeal befitting a drowning woman, who just got thrown a life vest.

Once I’ve finished going over my plans with Katie and sent her off to work in an office down the hall, I pause for a moment with an admission. I’m embracing this job and living the other Allison’s life as if it were my own. I’m not sure what that says about where my head is right now, but I’ll analyze myself and my reasoning a bit more later, alone in the house where she once lived and probably will again. Maybe. I don’t know much about her or even myself right now.

I dive back into my work and end up losing track of time. I blink and it’s time to go to my meeting. I grab my purse and briefcase, pull on the short, light trenchcoat I bought for the in-between seasons, and exit my office.

I round the reception desk and enter the lobby to find Tyler and Dash standing together, Tyler regal in an expensive fitted suit, and Dash oozing cool style and hotness in jeans, a blue sweater, and a matching blazer. The two men are in deep conversation, and while their body language is not tense, there’s an energy about them I wouldn’t call friendly. But then, this doesn’t really surprise me for a number of reasons, including the exchange I witnessed between them at the party. Not to mention there couldn’t be two men more alike and at the same time, so different.

And yet, here they stand, together, in my path.

I hesitate, not certain I should dare interrupt, but also not sure how I can walk past them and not speak at all. I can’t, I decide. I just have to casually wave and say something smart and snappy.

Drawing a deep breath, and steeling my spine for an overload of testosterone and intensity, I walk toward them. Tyler is angled toward me and when his gaze lifts in my direction, the weight of his attention settling on me, the impact is forceful. But when Dash shifts his position, when Dash brings me into view, and his eyes are on me, it’s fire. I feel his assessment in a heavy, warm way that refuses to set me free. Not that I really want to be free from Dash Black one little bit, which is actually a dangerous thought. The kind that will get me tripping over reasonable thought and falling right into trouble.

I halt within a circle of the two men, and say, “Hi,” with a little, ridiculously goofy wave. Good grief, I’m really special in all the wrong ways with these two men. “I don’t want to interrupt,” I say quickly. “I’m headed to my meeting with the charity head. I’ll update you both on how it goes.”

Tyler’s attention sharpens, a hardness in his stare now, that despite his indecipherable expression, ticks like anger. “Come and see me when you get back.”

He doesn’t know I’ve been talking to Dash, I realize, and I can assume that’s a problem for him. I’m not sure why though, considering this is Dash’s charity choice, but it’s the only logical answer to his reaction.

“I will,” I promise. “I won’t be back until late, though. I have an afternoon meeting with the venue, so I’ll grab lunch and head that way.” I don’t ask if that’s okay. That’s one thing Queen Compton taught me. Never, ever, give someone high on power, more power. Claim your space, she’d instructed, and live in it.