“Last I knew, he was still talking with Peter in the conference room.”
He nods. “Got it.” He turns to move but then comes back. “You want to grab lunch sometime?”
“Oh, um, sure. That would be nice.”
“Great. We can talk about it next week.”
“Sounds good.”
He smiles and turns, just as Elliot walks in and they almost bump into each other.
“I was just looking for you,” Ian says to Elliot.
“It’ll have to wait,” he says in a tone that tells me something didn’t go his way.
“Sure. I’ll stop by later.”
Ian leaves without another word, and Elliot closes the door before turning toward me.
“What will you be talking to him about next week?” he asks, still standing by the door.
“I’m sorry?”
“Ian said he would talk to you aboutitnext week. What isit?” he asks, this time with less patience and as he’s walking toward me. Looking almost like a stalking lion.
I have a feeling he already knows where this is going, and he doesn’t like it. I could lie, but that would be stupid for a numberof reasons. Mainly, telling him the truth is going to get some sort of feral reaction out of him, and I live for these moments while at work. This isn’t the first time he’s shown jealousy around me.
I don’t miss the way he glares at the guys when he catches them staring at me. It’s almost better than his eyes being on me themselves.
“He asked me to lunch,” I say, holding back the cocky smile pushing forward.
“And you agreed?” he grits out.
I give a small shrug, holding onto my innocence even after my breath comes heavier.
He takes a step closer to me, so close I feel the warmth of his body.
“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.”
“What am I doing, Mr. Caldwell?” I ask, keeping a hint of mischief in my tone.
He makes a low sound in his throat, then his hand comes up to brush his fingers along my cheek. I move into his touch, but the moment I do, it’s gone.
Fluttering my eyes open, because I hadn’t realized I closed them, I look up at him.
“Get your things. We’re going out to lunch.”
He says that, but then he doesn’t move. He doesn’t give me the space to get by him and I don’t know if it’s because he wants me to brush against him to go, or if he wants me to stay right here.
“Mr. Caldwell, Edwin Brantly is on the line.”
He flinches imperceptibly and carefully reaches around me to grab the receiver of the phone. Pressing the blinking button, he speaks into the phone but keeps his eyes on me.
“Mr. Brantly.” A beat of silence. “No. We’ve discussed this already.”
I hear the annoyance in his tone, but he stays as calm as ever.
What would it take to make him not calm? To rile him up? To get him all disheveled looking the way he was when he came to my apartment the day he was celebrating?
