I catch him looking at me with that grin, the one that promises to do things to me that I shouldn’t be thinking about right now.
“What?” I say, my voice a mix of annoyance and amusement.
“Nothing,” he replies, his eyes flicking down to the pile of documents in front of us. “Just wondering if we’ll ever get through all this.”
“Not if you keep distracting me,” I say, trying to sound exasperated but knowing it’s a lost cause.
“Distracting you?” he teases. “Having you spread out for me on this conference table would be a distraction. For the whole office, I’d bet.”
I roll my eyes and lean back in my chair, catching sight of James through the glass, watching me. Every time I’ve looked over to his office this morning, he’s been looking at me. My stomach flips at the intensity of his stare, and I quickly turn back to Nash.
“Focus, Nash,” I say, trying to ignore the heat rising to my cheeks and the flutter in my chest.
“I’m trying,” he says, leaning back and stretching his arms above his head. His shirt lifts just enough to reveal a sliver of skin, and I catch myself staring. “But you’re not making it easy,” he adds, his voice teasing.
I shake my head, trying to fight the grin that tugs at my lips. “We’re supposed to be working,” I remind him, even as my resolve weakens.
Nash leans in, lowering his voice. “Then let’s work on you coming over tonight.”
The suggestion sends a thrill through me, but I hesitate, glancing toward James’s office again.
He’s still watching. I can feel his gaze heavy on me, like he can read my mind. I look back at Nash, his eyes bright with anticipation.
“Tonight,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel.
His grin widens, and he reaches across the table, his fingers briefly brushing mine.
I pull away, fighting to maintain a semblance of professionalism.
“We have to finish this first,” I insist, though I can’t keep the smile from my voice.
The door swings open, and Vanessa stands there, her gaze cold and assessing.
“Attorney Sterling needs the conference room,” she says, putting an abrupt end to our moment. “He has a meeting.”
Both Nash and I look at her, then at each other, confusion crossing our faces.
“What meeting?” I ask.
Vanessa shrugs, already turning to leave. “Ask him,” she says, the words clipped.
She exits, and we gather the case files we had strewn across the conference table.
“Weird,” I say quietly to Nash. “James always takes his meetings in his office.”
Nash shrugs, but I can see the curiosity in his eyes.
He follows me out of the conference room, and I catch one last glimpse at James. He’s standing at his desk, watching us with an intensity that makes my heart race.
We get to my office, and Nash drops the files on my desk, the heavy thud echoing between us. I look at him, feeling a rush of heat rise in my cheeks, and I know Nash notices.
He leans against my desk, a lazy, confident ease in the way he stands there, like he’s already thinking about tonight.
“See you at six?”
“Six,” I confirm with a nod, and Nash’s grin is enough to send a flutter through me.
He turns to leave, and I let out a breath, moving to sit in my chair.
