Then
Deborah
Frowning, I stared at the black phone on my desk that I’d just hung up. The call had been with Cohen. He was canceling on our lunch date.
Again.
The truth was, his canceling on me was actually a good thing. It’d allow me time to get through the paperwork I needed to read before my late afternoon meeting. While I’d read through them all already, I didn’t see anything wrong with being overly prepared. Just as I plopped back down in my chair and opened the file, a knock sounded at my opened door.
I looked up, expecting to see my assistant asking if I wanted her to order my lunch in. She was good like that. But I was mistaken.
Instinctively, I shot up from my chair, eyes going wide at the side of Robert casually standing in my doorway, flowers in hand, a magnetic grin spread across his face.
“Hi,” I forced out, not knowing what else to say.
“Hi,” he responded, his dark eyes circling my office, pausing on my Stanford degree that I proudly displayed on the wall behind my desk. He entered my office, coming to a stop across from me.
“What are you doing here?” I racked my brain, trying to figure out if there was any possible way that the cosmetic company I worked for would be doing any work with Townsend Industries.
“Two reasons,” he responded. “One, to give you these.” He handed me the bouquet of long-stemmed, red roses.
They were absolutely gorgeous. I took the bouquet from his grasp, our fingers grazing one another’s. I didn’t miss the zap of electricity from that minor touch. Evidently, Robert didn’t either as his eyes narrowed on our hands, his jaw clenching and releasing.
“And two,” he began, his gaze coming back to my own, “to take you to lunch.”
I twisted my head, furrowing my eyebrows in confusion. “Lunch? You came over here to take me to lunch? Wait, how did you even find out I worked here?” I knew I didn’t give him the name of my employer when we literally bumped into one another at the Crown Jewel restaurant a week ago. I knew exactly how many days it’d been since we’d seen each other. Eight days. Because each day I took out his business card that I still hung on to and contemplated calling him but never did.
“I called around,” he stated casually, his eyes landing on me.
“Called around? What does that mean?”
“It means exactly what I said. Where would you like to eat? The Crown Jewel again or someplace else? I have standing reservations at three restaurants not too far from here.”
“I bet you do,” I mumbled, still perplexed that he was standing in my office. Before I could utter another word, my stomach growled, embarrassingly loud. “Sorry, I skipped breakfast this morning,” I admitted.
Robert frowned deeply, eyes narrowing. “You haven’t eaten anything today?”
I thought about it and began shaking my head. “Oh no, I did have a granola bar this morning.” It was the last one in my desk. I often kept them in my office since I had a tendency to skip meals throughout the day. It was a bad habit, I knew, but working long hours didn’t exactly lend itself to being able to cook three meals a day, everyday.
“A granola bar …” he uttered, sounding pissed.
“I was supposed to go to lunch with Cohen—”
“Cohen.” He lifted a dark eyebrow.
“My, uh, boyfriend.” Why did saying that to him feel like some sort of betrayal?
His frown deepened as he glanced around. “Looks like he’s not here and you’re hungry.”
I didn’t need much convincing after that. I was hungry and had been expecting to actually leave my office for lunch. Why not with Robert?
Because he’s the man you’ve secretly pined over for five years.
“Everything alright?” he asked in my ear, as my own wayward thoughts had stopped me in my tracks.
I glanced back over my shoulder and nodded. “Yes, fine.”
Fifteen minutes later, I found myself being seated in one of the finest French restaurants in downtown Williamsport. It was only a few blocks from my office building, but I was surprised to come out and find Robert had a car waiting for us. Like he’d already stated, he had a standing reservation, ensuring that we didn’t have to wait in the crowded rush hour line to be seated.
