She heated up her ramen noodles in the staff lounge microwave, half hoping to see him there. Not that he’d ever venture down this many floors, just to use a microwave that stank of someone’s fish dinner from three days ago, she reasoned. Except a great deal of what he did to encounter her didn’t make logical sense. Maybe he just would, maybe he’d come down here anyway.
She waved goodbye to the only other worker still busy on her floor in answer to the woman’s call of ‘goodnight.’ She would settle in now with her noodles and finesse the VP’s schedule so there would be time in the week for the conference call that was just rescheduled for next Wednesday.
On the way back to her desk, Paige nearly collided with Luke. As it was, she stopped suddenly, sloshing hot broth down her hand and splashing it onto his jacket.
“Shit,” she muttered, licking the hand where it burned from the searing, salty broth.
“Are you all right?” he said.
“I’m fine. Just clumsy I guess. But you came out of nowhere.”
“The elevator. I came from the elevator. I thought you might do me the favor of looking at my schedule for the coming week to see if there’s anything to be done about freeing up one evening.”
“Which one?” she said. “Because I can sure use the overtime.”
“Any one that you’re free,” he said.
“You want me to log into Gina’s computer and mess with your schedule so you can spend time trying to talk me into marrying you?” she whispered incredulously.
“Exactly. Now keep your voice down. There could be other people working beside us.”
She followed him to the elevator bank. When the doors opened, she shied away, took a step back.
“I could use the exercise. I’ll take the stairs and meet you on the top floor,” she said not trusting herself alone in an elevator with him.
When she swung open the door to the stairwell and realized it was going to be more than twenty flights to reach his level, she shook her head. If only she could trust herself to stay strong and not flirt with or kiss the chief executive of the entire company.
Grimly, she climbed the stairs, hurrying at first, then pacing herself for the long climb. About eight flights in, she regretted her choice to take the stairs. She stepped out on to that floor and went to the elevators. Surely, he was in his office by now, and she could take an empty elevator up to the executive level. She pressed the button, and the doors opened. There he was in the elevator car alone.
“How are you still riding the elevator?” she demanded, holding the stitch in her side from climbing.
“I knew you’d give up sooner or later and didn’t want to miss my chance.”
“Ugh. I’ll just go back to climbing.”
“Hey, I promise I’ll be on my best behavior, Paige,” he said, “Get in the elevator.”
He stepped aside for her to enter. Then they reached for the button at the same time, and their hands touched. She yanked her hand back, stared at it like it had betrayed her. He pressed the button for the top floor and stood back. The car lifted. She stared straight ahead and waited for the doors to open. Every part of her was aware of him, of how near he stood, of the confines of the elevator and what they’d nearly done the last time they were in such a spot together.
He’d smelled of his cologne, something like wool and leather and spices. It had washed over her, playing with her senses. She remembered the exact electric, breathless second when she realized he was going to kiss her. The way he’d lowered his face to hers, commanding and irresistible. She recalled the heat of him and how he seemed to fill up the entire space inside the elevator.
She also recalled how she’d reached for him, not stepping back or cowering away, but meeting him desire for desire. It was for the best that they’d been interrupted that one time. No good could come from anything like that sort of involvement between them. But the flirting didn’t stop. Subtle bursts of affection such as a simple swipe of the arm, flirty conversations, a bashful smile, or a lingering hug continued. They kept it innocent and light. And Paige was definitely intrigued. Was that little spark turning into something more?
She exited the elevator as soon as the doors opened and went directly to Gina’s office to tap in the password. Bringing up the calendar she observed, “You’re the least busy on Tuesday night. If you’re serious about clearing out a block of time, will an hour be enough?”
“An hour? Hardly. Make it four or five hours.”
“For dinner? It takes me less than half an hour to eat a salad.”
“I had thought to take you somewhere nicer than the salad bar at the grocery store,” he said. “If you’ll go out with me Tuesday, clear the schedule from five on.”
“On till when?”
“Wednesday,” he said.
She laughed. “I’m not sleeping with you.”
“Very well. It’s likely we’ll spend more than an hour together anyhow. Just reschedule anything that has to be canceled.”