"Charlotte, do you have a minute?"
"Of course." I minimize my spreadsheet and stand.
She steps into my office. "I wanted to introduce you to our new sports marketing consultant. He'll be working closely with your team on the Apex Athletic and Mountain High accounts."
I force a smile—
"Sebastian Montgomery, meet Charlotte Whitaker. Charlotte's one of our best project managers."
And there he is.
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
Sebastian stands in my office doorway looking like he stepped out of a GQ spread. The navy suit fits him perfectly, white shirt open at the collar, no tie. His hair is more styled than the messy locks I remember grabbing and pulling as he made me cum multiple times. His eyes—those piercing blue eyes—widen slightly when they meet mine.
My brain short-circuits, professional demeanor slipping for just a second before I force it back into place.
"Nice to meet you." My voice comes out steady, which feels like a minor miracle.
Sebastian recovers quickly too, extending his hand. "Likewise, Charlotte. Amelia’s told me great things."
His hand engulfs mine, warm and firm. The contact sends an electric current up my arm, memories flooding back unbidden. Those same hands on my waist, my hips, tangled in my hair, inside me.
I extract my hand as quickly as politeness allows.
"Sebastian comes to us with impressive credentials," Amelia continues, oblivious to the tension crackling between us. "Former professional snowboarder, then five years at Altitude Marketing in Colorado. He'll bring some fresh perspective to our sports accounts."
"Colorado," I repeat stupidly. The pieces click together, his confidence on the dance floor, the way he'd moved with such physical assurance. Of course he was an athlete.
"Born and raised," he confirms, his eyes never leaving mine. Is he searching for something? Gauging my reaction?
"Charlotte will get you up to speed on the Apex campaign," Amelia says. "They're launching a new line of winter sports gear, right up your alley."
"Perfect." His smile doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Looking forward to diving in."
Amelia glances at her watch. "I've got a call in five. Charlotte, can you show Sebastian to the empty office next to yours? IT should have his computer set up already."
My old office neighbor moved to Seattle last month. Of course the universe would put Sebastian right next door.
"Of course," I manage.
She nods, satisfied. "Great. I'll see you both at the department meeting at eleven." She strides out, leaving us alone in my suddenly too-small office.
The silence stretches between us, thick with unspoken words. I cross my arms over my chest, a physical barrier.
"So," he finally says, voice low. "Charlie—"
"Charlotte," I correct him. "It's Charlotte."
Something flashes in his eyes—frustration? Regret? "Charlotte." He begins again. "I want to apologize, I should have—"
"It doesn't matter." I wave a dismissive hand, though it absolutely does matter. "It was one night. These things happen."
"About that—"
"The office next door has a great view," I interrupt, moving toward my door. "I'll show you and then email you the Apex files to review."
He doesn't move, blocking my exit. "Can we talk about this?"
