My mystery man. Sultry, penetrating eyes from the theater. Broad, walled-off shoulders that had shielded us on Lucy’s balcony.
David.
He’d parted his hair off to the side and gelled it into a soft, cohesive wave. His sharp, navy suit followed every edge of his body, from the cliffs his shoulders created to his trim waist to the hem that hit just the right spot of his shoes despite his height. He wore his collar open with no tie, and the exposed skin of his collarbone made my breath catch.
How long had I been staring, kneeling at his feet like his disciple? Why couldn’t I speak? If the office had seemed smaller before, it became a shoebox now, especially from my current position. His presence could barely be contained.
“David?” I asked.
“Were you expecting someone else?”
“Yes.” I rocked off my heels and finally stood, smoothing my hands over my dress. “Luke Dylan.”
“Do you always do this much research before an interview?” By the quirk of his mouth, I assumed he was teasing me, though I couldn’t be sure. “Lucas is my first name. I’ve always gone by my middle, though.”
“David,” I said. “David . . . Dylan.”
“David Dylan,” he confirmed with a nod.
Serena hadn’t taken her eyes off of David, clearly starstruck. “Youknoweach other?”
“Not really, no,” I said quickly, holding out my hand. What else could I do? It was best that Ididn’tknow him, and so I’d pretend that was the case. “I’m so sorry for the mix-up. Nice to meet you.”
David glanced down, seeming to debate whether to call out my lie or to go along with it. After a moment, he took my hand and squeezed it. “Your hand is cold,” he said.
“I’m sorry,” I said and tried to take it back, but he kept it in a firm grip. As we held each other’s gaze, his palm warmed mine. Heat crept up my arm to my chest. By the time he released me, I was half-thawed, half-chilled, my nipples hardening in my bra.
Serena broke the silence. “I can bring coffee,” she quipped. “How do you take it, Mr. Dylan?”
How do you take it?
How do you like it, Mr. Dylan?
I didn’t even really know the man, but I thought I knew the answer.
He liked ithisway.
I wiped excess lip gloss from the corner of my mouth.
He didn’t even blink. “Black is fine.”
“I’ll be back in a jiff,” Serena said.
Once alone, I returned to my spot behind the desk. “Have a seat, Mr. Dylan,” I said, gesturing to a chair.
“Call me David.”
“I wasn’t expecting to see you again.” I avoided his eyes and picked up a pen, unclicked it, and put it in a pencil holder before rearranging its contents.
He laughed softly as he sat. “I should think not after the way you ran away from me on the balcony.”
I straightened up, looking across the desk at him. “Ididn’t run away,” I said. “Youleft the party—you were the one . . .” I stopped at the slight smirk on his face. If he’d been trying to get a rise out of me, he’d succeeded in no time at all—again. “Nobody ran away from anyone,” I said. “We had a normal conversation, that’s all.”
“You’ve had conversations like that before?”
“Me? No,” I said without missing a beat. “I meant normal for you.”
His expression eased. He gripped the arms of the chair and looked around. “I love what you’ve done with your office,” he said wryly. “It’s . . . inviting.”
