“Me too.”
“Walk me down?”
“Okay.” I shouldn’t do anything else to draw attention to myself or to Hudson because even though Spencer went off with his tail between his legs, I know this isn’t over.
Standing from my chair, I follow him into the main hallway of our floor. We pass cubicle after cubicle, drawing attention from most of my coworkers. Each office we pass, my face gets hotter and probably redder. I don’t care for this type of scrutiny. If I’m lucky, everyone is staring at him, not me. As we arrive at the elevator, I see movement from behind. Glancing back, I notice several heads peeking out of their offices.
Great.
Hudson leans close and says softly, “Everyone is watching.”
“Mm, hm.” I’m well aware.
“We should probably keep up the pretense, don’t you think?”
“What?”
“That we’re in a relationship.”
“Oh. Right.”
He’s close enough to smell. His cologne is subtle, but I smell delicious musk and spice. “I’m going to give you a little kiss. For show. Is that all right?”
Of course, it’s for show. Why else would a man like Hudson kissme? “Sure.” I nod slowly.
When his lips touch mine, I feel it everywhere. I’m curious if that’s because it’s him or because I haven’t been kissed in forever. I suspect it’s him because I can’t recall a kiss feeling quite like that. Like every nerve in my body just woke up at the exact same time.
When the elevator doors open, he grasps my hand and pulls me inside. Once the doors close, Hudson slides his phone from the inside breast pocket. “Can I get your phone number?”
“Sure. May I?” I hold my hand out in the hopes he takes the hint. He does, setting his fancy smartphone into my palm, I use it to add my phone number to his contacts.
“Great. I’ll send you a text so you’ll have mine.”
On the ground floor, the doors open. Just as he’s about to step out, he adds, “Oh, and text me your address.”
“Why?”
“So I can pick you up on Saturday.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“Yes, it is, Willa.”
“Fine.” What the heck is wrong with me? Why do I seem to only respond in one-word sentences? It’s like I turn into an idiot when he’s around. I guess it’s good this is all fake because if Hudson were forced to get to know me, I doubt he would like the real Willa Clariday. The crazy cat lady who enjoys embroidering, reading, watching British mysteries, and going to flea markets is not Hudson Adler’s cup of tea. Of that, I am certain.
ChapterEight
HUDSON
I’m whistling.
All the way back to my office, I’ve been whistling. Hell, I don’t remember the last time I did that. And there’s only one reason for it. I’m happy. Or maybe I’m excited. I’m thrilled to have something other than work to look forward to.
Who’d have thought I’d be eager to attend a stuffy garden party? Not me, that’s for sure, but something’s changed, and that has everything to do with my date, Willa. I’ve never attended one of these functions with someone like her. Someone normal––average. I don’t mean that like it sounds. Perhaps refreshing is a better way to describe Willa rather than merely average.
“Oh, you’re back?” My assistant and right-hand woman, Karen, looks surprised to see me.
“I’m back.” I step into my office but turn to ask, “Can you see if Brent’s free?”
