“I’ll be there. How do you take your . . . coffee?” Oh, he was going to make this a miserable experience, wasn’t he?
“Look, whatever happened, happened and I think we’re both grown-up enough to put it behind us. Besides,” I said with a smirk I hoped he would hear in my voice, “if it’s a choice between he said, she said, I win. Cream and sugar. Eight o’clock.”
Before he could say anything else, I hung up on him, slamming the phone into the receiver, but I swear I could still hear him laughing.
Eight
As fate would have it, I was running late the next morning. Traffic was horrendous due to some construction and I skidded into the lobby, nearly wiping out on the smooth floor. A hand reached out and prevented my face-plant.
“Good morning, Miss Clarke.” I peered into those blue/gray eyes and they were smiling and laughing at me.
Damn, he looked good in the morning. I stood up and adjusted myself, trying to gain composure.
“Coffee?” he said, holding out a tray with two cups on it. “The one with the happy face is yours.”
I give him a look and took the happy face cup. I hadn’t had a chance to have my fix yet, and I was jonesing.
“Shall we?” he said after I took a sip. He turned and didn’t wait before striding toward the elevator and hitting the Up button. I sighed to myself and followed him. This time he was dressed in a perfect gray suit and sapphire tie, and the diamond stud was back in his ear.
“I never wear my nipple ring to the office, if that’s what you’re wondering,” he said when he caught me staring at his chest and wondering that very thing. My face flamed red and I tried to glare at him.
“I wasn’t thinking that.”
Yes I was.
“Yes you were.”
“Shut up.” Wow, brilliant response, Rory. You sound exactly sixteen years old.
He just grinned and handed me a bag.
“Cheese Danish, cherry Danish, croissant and donut with strawberry frosting and sprinkles. I wasn’t sure what you liked.” His face was smug and I wanted to smack it and then smack a kiss on it.
He seemed to read my thoughts again and turned his head to the side and moved his face closer to mine. I was captivated by his eyes and the enclosed space of the elevator and his smell and . . .
The elevator dinged and the doors slid open, cutting off the moment. Lucas pulled back and shook his head and tried to hand me the bag again. I snatched it from him.
I was going to eat every single pastry in that bag. I was an equal opportunity pastry eater, but the strawberry donut was my first choice, though I wasn’t going to tell Lucas that.
He said hello to Mrs. Andrews as he walked past her desk and she gave him a genuine smile, as if she was happy to see him. God, not her, too.
I showed him around the office again, the break room, bathrooms, copier, etc., and he was too close for comfort, even though he was almost completely silent.
He followed me all the way to my desk and I was about to snap at him to stop following me, but then I realized I hadn’t showed him to his desk.
Get your head in the game, Clarke.
I set down my coffee and the bag of pastries.
“Your, um, desk is right over there,” I said, pointing to the desk that was right in the middle of the hallway across from my office. Granted, I had a door in between us, but I almost never closed it (BLB, Before Lucas Blaine) unless I needed privacy, and that was rare. So basically, we’d be facing each other. All day. Every day.
Those stormy eyes would be staring at me for at least forty hours a week. More if we had a big project to work on.
He faced me and walked backwards to his desk with a come hither smile. He wasn’t making this easy. Well, I could make it hard.
Head in the game, Clarke.
I tried to snap my spine straight and made sure my heels made the maximum amount of noise as I crossed the space between us and started explaining everything.