Focus. This is just sex. It’s always been just sex.
I repeat it silently, like a mantra. Because the man is dangerous. A criminal. And the second I forget that, I lose.
A soft knock on the door pulls me out of my spiral just before Dana breezes in, a coffee in one hand, her oversized tote slung over the other arm.
“Hey,” she says, pausing halfway across the room. “You good? You look...off.”
I blink up at her, forcing my features into something close to neutral. “Just tired.”
She sits down across from me, not buying it for a second. “Did you ever report that guy?”
I don’t have to ask which guy she means.
“No,” I answer too quickly. “Honestly, I don’t want to think about it anymore. It happened. It’s over. He didn’t try anything, thankfully. I just want to forget.”
Her brow lifts. “How do you know? That he didn’t try anything?”
Shit.
“Because…someone I know showed up right before he could. He took me home instead.”
Dana leans back, eyes narrowing just slightly. She doesn’t trust that answer, but she also knows when to push and when to let it go.
“Do I know him?”
Clearly, she’s not in the let-it-go stage right now. Awesome…
“Nope.” I fold my arms over my chest. “I’m fine, I promise. I’d rather focus on work because we need to finish the Soto brief, in case you forgot.”
You know, the one I can’t seem to focus on.
Her brows lift like she knows exactly what I’m doing, but she plays along anyway. “Nice pivot. And yes, I’m almost done with my part. You?”
“Almost done too.”
Dana tilts her head. “You sure you’re okay? Because honestly, you look…I don’t know. Nervous. Glowy. A mix of both.”
“I’m using a new highlighter.”
She snorts. “That’s not it. Did you get laid last night?”
“What?” My voice catches, too loud in the quiet room. “No! Of course not.”
She leans back in her chair, arms folded. “Geez, you’d think I’d accused you of murder. A little sex wouldn’t kill you.”
I try to laugh it off. “I barely go out. You know that.”
“Well, whoever thisfriendis, he looks good on you.” Her salacious grin brings unnecessary heat to my face.
Before she can dig her teeth in any deeper, there’s a knock at the door and the secretary walks in, arms full of envelopes.
“Morning, Ms. Clark. Your mail.”
“Thanks,” I say, maybe a little too eagerly, as I grab the stack and place it beside my laptop. “Appreciate it.”
Dana watches me for a beat longer, then glances at the stack of mail before flicking her attention back to me.
“Well…” She sighs, stretching as she stands. “That’s my cue to go be productive. Or pretend I’m being productive. I’ll come annoy you later.”
