I expected the office to be dark but was surprised to find several lights were still on. Had Adam forgotten to turn everything off before he left?
I entered the kitchen and came up short. “I didn’t know you were still here.”
Lena was standing in front of the fridge, looking inside. Her feet were bare, and she had unbuttoned the top of her blouse. Her long hair was up in a messy bun secured by a pencil, exposing the length of her neck. She looked over her shoulder, her mouth pursed in a thin line. “I thought I was alone.”
“Sorry to disappoint.” I brushed past her to get to the coffee machine.
The air was thick with a noticeable tension. She grabbed a diet soda and closed the refrigerator door. She popped the top and took a long drink, eyeing me over the rim of the can. “What keeps you here so late?”
“Going over the pile of shit the DA’s office sent over for a case. It’s slow going,” I said, dumping coffee granules in the machine and turning it on. “Why are you still here? I thought you’d be off celebrating yet another victory.”
Lena’s eyebrows rose and I could see her swallow. We both knew how we had celebrated her victory last night.
Was it only last night?
Damn it! Now I was sporting a chubby. I discreetly adjusted my junk.
Lena cleared her throat and took another drink of her soda. “I’m plowing through some admin stuff. Nothing exciting.”
I tried not to focus on what the word plowing did to my cock.
I poured the freshly brewed coffee into a mug and dumped way too much sugar into the dark liquid. I hated sugar in my coffee. What the fuck? Lena addled my brain.
“You hate sugar in your coffee,” she pointed out as if reading my mind.
“How do you know how I take my coffee?” I countered.
She rolled her eyes. “Because I spent months making it for you. Don’t get an inflated ego because I remember such a mundane detail.” She got the creamer out of the fridge and handed it to me. “I bought some more Irish Creme earlier in the week. I noticed you were out.” I took my favorite flavor of creamer and poured some in my coffee.
“Thanks,” I responded, feeling an odd lump in my throat.
Get it together, Wyatt. It’s just coffee creamer.
She didn’t need to know what it did to me to know she paid attention. That she remembered something so trivial like how I took my coffee and my favorite flavor of creamer. Of course, she’d remember. She was the office admin for months.
Lena Ducate would not turn me into a giant ball of pussy.
“I like your hair up like that,” I commented, reaching out to lift a strand that had come free of the bun.
“Well, you know, a pencil bun is the height of fashion,” she snarked, swatting my hand away.
“You hungry? I was thinking about ordering a pizza,” I found myself offering. Lena hesitated. I gave her my sexiest grin. “It’s only pizza, Ducate.”
“Yeah, sure. The pizza sounds great. I like—”
“Ham and pineapple, I know. I seem to recall your questionable taste in pizza,” I interrupted, pulling out my phone and putting in a call to the local pizza place.
“I seem to have questionable taste in a lot of things,” she muttered, looking away.
Ouch.
I chose to ignore the barb and quickly put in an order for a large Hawaiian and breadsticks. I went back to my office to put away the files. When I came back out, Lena had cleaned off the coffee table in the reception area and set it up like a proper dinner table, complete with plates, silverware, and napkins. She had also pulled up two chairs on either side.
“Maybe we should light some candles or something,” I joked. And then realized how assy I sounded as I took in the look of hurt that momentarily crossed her face. She had gone to some trouble and I was shitting all over it. I sat down in one of the chairs and was immediately contrite. “That was rude, I’m sorry. It looks great.”
“It’s nothing. Don’t make a big deal out of it,” Lena replied gruffly.
It seemed I had a certain skill for pissing off Marlena Ducate.
Cue the awkwardness. It was becoming a thing between us. We were saved a few minutes later by a knock on the door. I quickly got to my feet to go and pay for the pizza. I returned with the steaming box and set it down on the table.
Lena picked up her purse and fished out her wallet. “What do I owe you?”
“Nothing. This is on me,” I told her.
She shook her head. “No way, let me contribute—”
“I can buy a beautiful woman a goddamn pizza,” I snapped, irrationally riled by her insistence.