"Everything's fine," he said, deciding right then to give Carina a raise. It had missed the mark, but he appreciated that she'd thrown herself up as a wall between him and the angry, spurned candidate.
He also wondered if she'd still be defending him if she knew the whole story. If she knew that Kiki presented the best proposal by far, but that he was hesitant to give her the job because there might be friction.
Might be?
He glanced at Kiki and sighed. He'd tried to avoid friction, and yet friction had marched right into his waiting room. "We need to talk."
"Gee, you think?" She started to walk toward his office.
"No, this way." He took her elbow, then turned her around, the touch too damn familiar.
He yanked his hand away and caught Carina's expression in the process. Confusion, but with a tiny spark that might be understanding.
He turned his attention back to Kiki. One woman irritated with him was all he could handle at the moment. "I'm leaving. If you want to talk, we can do it on the move." Not exactly a stunning example of wresting back control of the situation, but at least she didn't argue.
Two minutes later--in the cattle car of an elevator--he was regretting his decision. His office would have been easier.
Maybe Noah never left this early, but it seemed everyone else in the building did. The car was jam-packed. It hadn't been when they'd first stepped on. Just six people plus him and Kiki. He'd moved to the back, and she'd stood beside him.
By the time the elevator had made three more stops, she was directly in front of him, and the car was so crowded that he was flat against the back wall and she was so close that he felt the brush of her against his slacks.
There was a time when he would have hooked his arm around her waist and pulled her against him, his lips in her hair, her scent enveloping him, and his cock hard against her backside as they rode down together, both of them fantasizing about what they'd do if they only had the elevator to themselves.
"We're here," he said as the elevator glided to a stop at the lobby. The man standing in front of her stepped forward, and she practically leaped into the space he vacated. Coincidence? Or had her thoughts been traveling in a similar direction to his, and she'd rushed to get clear?
"Do you want a coffee?" he asked as they stepped outside and into the brisk November air, raising the possibility both because he wanted something to say and because he could really use the caffeine jolt.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" she demanded.
"Caffeine deprivation, primarily," he said as he stepped into the intersection, crossing Congress Avenue with the flood of downtown employees escaping their offices for home. He watched them enviously. There was a time when he'd wanted nothing but to be at her side. Now he just wanted to get to his condo, take two ibuprofens, and hope that tomorrow was a damn sight better than today.
"Oh, no," she said, keeping pace with him. "I waited for you to drag me away from your starry-eyed protege, but enough is enough."
He battled a smile. "You mean Carina?"
"She looks loyal. Wouldn't want her to realize that her boss is a conniving prick who'll do anything to protect his own ass."
Considering Noah himself hadn't decided if not hiring her was smart or idiotic, he'd expected her to challenge his decision. This, however, was nuts.
"Protecting myself? Just because I want what's best for the project?"
"Oh, that's rich."
He shook his head, which only exacerbated his growing headache. He pointed to the nearby Starbucks, as he continued that direction. "Coffee, then home. That's my current itinerary, and if you want me to alter it, then you need to give me a reason other than bullshit. You're the one who barged into my office because she's a sore loser."
Shit. Had he really said that? What was he, stuck in middle school and yanking the ponytail of the cute girl who ignored him?
"Me? I'm not the one who settled for second best because I can't deal with the reality of my own personal life."
He stopped and gaped at her. "I can't deal? I can't deal? You're the one nervous about working with me."
Her eyes went wide. "Excuse me?"
"Oh, come on," he said, taking a step closer. "Don't pretend to misunderstand."
"You're imagining things."
"Am I?" He took another step, so that he was right in front of her. She could back up more--they were at least eighteen inches from the building's facade--but she held her ground. He stopped only inches from her. Close enough that he could smell her shampoo and see the pale ghosts of the freckles she'd tried to hide under her makeup. Once upon a time, he'd spent hours in bed kissing each and every one of those freckles. Now, he didn't even have the right to touch them.