“I was right to show these designs to you?” she asked, oblivious to the odd shift going on inside him. “The lines seemed too similar to some of the designs I saw on the walls at Lyn.”
“You noticed the lines were similar?”
“It’s like artwork,” she said a touch defensively. “No one would confuse a Van Gogh with a Picasso, right? I thought the designs were suspect.”
Captivated, he nodded. She knew style, he’d give her that.
“No, you’re right. Hurst doesn’t have any designers on staff capable of this kind of work.” They certainly didn’t have any who were paid to design haute couture. “But it doesn’t matter. They were lifted from Lyn’s vaults, no question. It’s part of our Paris Fashion Week collection. How did Avery get her hands on it?”
They had a spy at Lyn.
He cursed. Avery had stolen his idea to plant a spy and stolen Lyn’s design.
This was over the top. Sure, Meredith was at Hurst to gather intel on Avery’s CEO plans, but he’d never have asked her to steal designs. It was an all-out declaration of war.
Squeal.
Jason froze and Meredith’s eyes widened.
Someone was in the hall.
Squeal. Thump.
They were about to get caught in Avery’s office.
“It’s the janitor,” Meredith mouthed. “Quick, get behind the desk.”
Pulse thundering, he raised his eyebrows in question.
“Do it,” she whispered fiercely and yanked on his arm until he complied.
Kneeling down—and feeling ridiculous—he eyed the crack between Avery’s horrendous wooden desk and the floor. The full skirt completely obscured him from view, the only benefit to the heavy furniture. How exactly did it matter if he hid behind the desk while Meredith lounged around plainly in the open?
More squealing emanated from directly outside the office door.
“Good evening,” Meredith chirped. “Working late. Do you mind cleaning this office last today? It would be really helpful.”
“Sure, miss,” a masculine voice responded. The squeals faded into the distance.
Meredith popped around the desk and dusted off her hands. “Piece of cake.”
“But he saw you,” Jason said over the sudden hum of a vacuum cleaner down the hall.
It should feel even more ridiculous to still be kneeling behind the desk when the imminent danger had passed, but the slit in Meredith’s skirt was at eye level and her silky smooth legs kept peeking out, begging for his attention.
And then she shifted and a flash of lacy white seared his vision. His groin went tight and he nearly groaned.
“So?” she asked. “I’m supposed to be here, retrieving my lost phone, remember? If the janitor says anything to anyone, which I doubt he will, that’s my excuse. Let’s get out of here before he comes back.”
That was enough of a reason to stand.
“Good idea.” When Meredith picked up the sketches, he shook his head. “Leave them. We don’t want her to know we’re on to her.”
“Okay. But we have to get them back at some point. She can’t get away with this.”
Meredith’s fierce tone made him smile. “If Lyn and Hurst merge, it doesn’t matter. I get the designs back by default. No harm, no foul.”
It was a lie strictly to soothe her. Avery’s treachery hit below the belt and hurt much more than he dared let on.
They sprinted for the elevator and it wasn’t until the doors closed that Jason turned to his coconspirator. “That was...”
One glimpse of her made him lose his train of thought.
Meredith’s chest rose and fell from the slight exertion, drawing attention to her barely concealed cleavage. Her hair twined around her face in a mess of waves. She was amazing and gorgeous and her quick thinking had saved their hides.
His heart pounded and adrenaline coursed through his veins, waking up his nerves...and drawing the attention of the erection he’d been trying to ignore since the peek at her underwear.
The combination swept over him in a dark surge of awareness, along with a heady dose of her exotic perfume.
Breathing her in, he relaxed and reveled in the wild rush she never failed to evoke. Avery’s plans, his plans, mergers, corporate politics—all of it was too much to resolve tonight and he didn’t want to think about any of it. Once, he’d fallen into this woman’s arms to escape the pain of his real life, and she’d restored him in a way he’d never anticipated.
He craved the connection they’d once had, the one that made him feel as if she understood him in a way no one else could. Why didn’t he deserve to have some heat in his otherwise cold life? Why didn’t she deserve the same?