“My office it is,” Claire conceded.
Not thirty seconds later they were ensconced in Claire’s office, the door safely closed against prying ears.
“So here’s the deal.” Jamie tugged at the hem of her short skirt. “Monroe came looking for you and he looked pissed. More pissed than I’ve ever seen him. He almost waited for you in your office until I told him you’d be more than ten minutes. Men have no patience, you know.”
She tried but failed to wrest her gaze from Jamie’s blindingly lime-green skirt. “Is that crocodile?”
Just the thought of it was oddly repulsive to Claire. It made her feel like gagging.
Jamie touched a hand to the waistline of her flamboyant skirt. “It’s fake croc, less pricey than the real thing. I think it’s pleather, actually, which I’m totally okay with because I don’t believe in hurting animals for fashion. But if Irene from Client Services asks, it’s real and I got it at Nordstrom. God, I hate her.” She frowned. “Don’t you even care that Monroe is on the rampage?”
Claire thought about it for a moment, her gaze caught on the earrings dangling from Jamie’s ears. They were huge. “Isn’t he on a perpetual rampage? I mean, when isn’t the man angry with me? I’ve ceased to care.” She paused. “Are your earrings palm trees?”
“You like them? I got them at a little jewelry boutique—” Jamie glared at Claire. “Stop trying to distract me. What’s going on, Claire? Why is Monroe constantly looking for you?”
“I’m his creative director. You know what it can be like. Besides, this isn’t any different than any other time we’re in the middle of a project.”
“It is and you know it. What’s going on?”
Oh I’m just going to have the man’s baby, that’s all.Nothing unusual here.
“I don’t know.” She pressed her fingertips to her throbbing temples. “All I know is that my feet hurt, I’m tired, my head hurts, and my life is more screwed up than a soap opera heroine’s.”
Jamie gave her a sympathetic look. “Wait here and try to avoid Himself. I’ll run down to the café and grab you an Earl Grey, decaf.”
“You’re a dear.” Claire made her way to her chair, happily sinking into its familiar comfort. “Oh, and Jamie? Make it three packs of sugar this morning, please. I need it.”
When Jamie disappeared, Claire pulled out her laptop and started it up. As she waited for her desktop to appear, she contemplated the fiasco that was currently her life. At least Garrett had agreed to the divorce settlement her lawyer had hammered out. That took a tremendous weight off her shoulders. The last thing on earth she wanted or needed to deal with right now was an ugly court battle where she and Garrett fought over everything down to who would get the ottoman and who would get the sofa.
Now if only things with Logan would work out as nicely. How they were going to cooperate as parents was beyond her. How she was going to manage to keep her hands off him, and that included both sexual advances and strangulation, was an utter mystery. She wanted him and she couldn’t stand him all at the same time.
Damn it.
Claire came back to the present with a jolt, realizing she’d been spacing out, staring at her screensaver. A series of Impressionist paintings flicked by in a steady rhythm. Where was Jamie with that tea?
Her office door opened and she looked up, expecting to be blinded by key-lime croc print and ugly palm trees. Instead, Logan walked into the room. He didn’t bother to exchange pleasantries.
“Why the hell weren’t you answering your phone last night?” He stalked across her office, circling her desk to stop and stare down at her.
“I turned off the ringer,” she told him. “I had enough arguments for one night.”
“You didn’t even answer my texts. I was worried.”
“You didn’t have to be.”
He leaned a hand on her desktop, bending so that they were at eye level. “You were at home the entire time?”
“Yes.” She sighed. “Do you expect me to keep a log book now? Or would you prefer if I call you every time I leave the house?”
“Don’t be a smart ass.” His lip curled into a sneer. “I’m concerned about my baby. The one you were never going to tell me about, remember?”
“Very funny. I’m sort of doing this thing called work at the moment. Remember that? Do you think we could discuss this later?”
“You can’t just keep avoiding me. We need to talk. We’re having a—”
A knock on the office door interrupted Logan’s tirade. Jamie popped her head inside, looking both hesitant and worried. “Am I interrupting?”
“Yes.” Logan angled an intimidating glare her way.
