Mr. Kavanagh.Right. That’s who I was. Her boss. Not the man who spent half of last night remembering the exact shade of pink her cheeks had turned when she leaned in close and nearly put her lips on my face.
“My office, please. Close the door behind you.”
I watched her walk in, trying not to notice the nervous energy radiating off her. She closed the door with a soft click and stoodthere, hands clasped in front of her like a student called to the principal’s office.
“Have a seat,” I said, gesturing to the chair Keith had vacated.
She perched on the edge like she might need to make a quick escape.
I opened my mouth to launch into the speech I’d been mentally rehearsing all morning. And when I opened my mouth, the two words that fell out were nothing that I had practiced. “I’m sorry.”
She blinked. “Sorry for what?”
“For yesterday. The commercial shoot. You were put in an uncomfortable position because of circumstances beyond your control, and I should have shut it down immediately.”
“Oh.” She relaxed slightly. “It’s okay, really. I talked to Norma about it this morning, and she said if anyone gives us a hard time about it, they’ll be having a conversation with her. In her office. With the door open so everyone can hear.”
My lips twitched despite my best efforts. “That sounds exactly like Norma.”
Ina smiled. It lit up her entire face and sent spirals of heat swirling through my veins.
This was the most we’d spoken in three weeks. The longest conversation we had since she’d started working here. And I was suddenly, acutely aware of why I’d been avoiding exactly this scenario.
Because when Ina smiled at me like that, I forgot about company policy and professional boundaries and all the very good reasons I built walls around myself.
I cleared my throat, forcing myself back to safer ground. “The director and Heidi seem to think there was… chemistry. In the rehearsal.”
Her cheeks flushed. “They’re professionals. I’m sure they know what they’re doing.”
“And you’re comfortable with moving forward? With the actual commercial shoot on Friday?”
She hesitated, and I found myself leaning forward slightly, waiting for her answer with more intensity than the situation warranted.
“I am,” she said finally. “I mean, it’s just acting, right? Pretending for the camera. It’s not real.”
Right. Not real.“If at any point you’re uncomfortable, you tell me. Or Norma. Or Lucas. You won’t get in trouble for backing out. This isn’t in your job description.”
“I know.” Her smile softened into something gentler. “Thank you for checking. That’s really considerate.”
People didn’t usually call me considerate. Efficient, yes. Ruthless, certainly. Good at business, absolutely. But considerate? Only in bed.
I was suddenly desperate to end this conversation before I did something stupid like ask her what she thought about the commercial, or whether she’d felt that spark too.
“I have a personal appointment this afternoon,” I said instead. “Clear my schedule from two o’clock onward.”
She pulled out her phone and started typing. “Of course. Do you still want me to hold your reservation at Marea?”
I’d forgotten about that. Dinner with a potential investor who wanted to talk about expanding Cupid’s Arrow internationally. “Yes, keep that.”
“Done.” She stood up, smoothing her sweater again in a gesture I was beginning to recognize as a nervous habit. “Is there anything else you need?”
“No, that’s all.”
She headed for the door, and I turned back to my laptop, pretending to be focused on work.
The door closed with a soft click. I immediately rubbed both hands over my face and let out a long breath.
This was a problem. A significant, complicated, absolutely-cannot-happen problem.
