Crickitt had already assumed Shane was passionate about entrepreneurs, but seeing him in action was like watching a bird take flight. Natural, easy. Shane’s enthusiasm shone in every hand gesture, every answer, and through every assurance he made. When Shane vowed to do what it took to help the man become successful, all three of them knew he meant it.
After the meeting, they stepped outside the shop and Shane lifted his ringing cell phone to his ear. “August.”
Crickitt paused, taking in the truncated exchange.
“Yes. No problem,” he said, gazing in her direction. “Absolutely. See you then.”
He pocketed his phone as the driver opened the door for them. “Thomas, I’ll need you to work late tonight. Does Darcy have you booked?”
Thomas gave Shane a pained smile. “Tango lessons. I’d be glad to stay and work late.”
Shane chuckled and palmed the older man’s shoulder. “Excellent. Find a place we can loiter for a bit, will you?”
Shane ushered Crickitt into the limo. Once inside, he said, “Townsend pushed our meeting to five thirty. I realize you expected to be done working by then. I can have Thomas take you home. If we leave now, I can still make it back in time for the meeting.”
Crickitt frowned. It was a superfluous amount of driving simply to see her home. “I’m sure a four-hour round-trip isn’t the best use of your time.”
“I can read in the car. There’s no shortage of what I could learn,” he said with a grin. “It’s your call. I don’t expect you to stick around. You wouldn’t get back to Osborn until late tonight and I don’t want to break up your plans.”
Plans. Yeah, right. Her big Friday-night plans involved pajamas, a DVD, and eating out of a paper container of some sort. No, she’d prefer to spend the evening with her impressively capable boss, even if her reasons were bordering on unprofessional. Or stalkerish. “I’d like to stay,” she said, tacking on, “and meet Townsend.”
“Good,” he said, and she could swear he looked relieved.
* * *
Shane was relieved.
Henry Townsend was an important, if not the most important, client August Industries had. But as much as Shane loved the thrill of landing a new account, of helping a business owner see his dreams come to fruition, the lengthy drive and downtime were significantly less thrilling. He usually filled the hours with solo lunches or reading dry stock reports.
It was nice not to be alone, and Crickitt was good company. She pushed a curl away from her face and pinned him with serene blue eyes. Okay, she wasn’t just good company. He liked her. Liked the way she asked questions and was genuinely interested in his answers. Liked the way she waited for the right moment to interrupt him when he was deep in thought. She was good for him.
As his assistant, he reminded himself, glancing down at his folded hands.
Now that he thought about it, he doubted she’d want to spend the afternoon pinned up in the limo reading bland reports. He was already tying up her evening. “What would you like to do today?” he asked. “Art museum? Shopping? We have several hours before Townsend.”
He’d surprised her. Her eyes widened and her brows elevated in the cutest, startled expression.
“Or we could work?” he said, wondering if he’d miscalculated her after all.
“You’re paying me. It’s your call.”
Shane nearly flinched. He hoped she hadn’t stayed out of some misplaced sense of obligation. He wanted her to want to be here with him. Which wasn’t something he should allow himself to want at all. This was a business trip. He was her boss. It wasn’t a weekend trip filled with sightseeing, shopping, and dinner at Skyview.
Man, he’d like to take her to dinner again. A real dinner, one without interview questions and ending with a kiss good night.
You hired her. You can’t date her.
Tamping down his out-of-place disappointment, he tried again. “Since you’ll be working late, you have the middle of the day to yourself. Thomas can drop you off somewhere. Like the mall, or…a shoe store?”
Crickitt twisted her lush lips into a grimace. “Ugh. I hate shopping.”
A woman who hated to shop? He’d never met one. “What do you like to do?”
She shrugged, considering his question. “Watch movies.”
He recalled her apartment, the stacks of DVDs in her living room, the pile of plastic cases next to the TV in her bedroom. “Okay,” he said. “Let’s go to a movie. Anything out you’d like to see?”