His reply came almost instantly, despite the fact that it was nine a.m. on a Tuesday and he was probably at work, drumming up new clients, or assigning jobs, orreading through a contract. Maybe she was interrupting a meeting. But then, he could just ignore her.
She waited without responding and could imagine him sitting at his desk, drinking coffee—did he like it with cream and sugar, or black?—wearing those sexy reading glasses. Heat curled through her chest and spread to her fingers and toes.Shake it off. They weren’t going there except to pretend.
Taking a sip of her Ju-C cola—a morning indulgence that made her neighbor Jade gag—she stroked Rockley’s fur with one hand and turned her attention back to her e-reader, but the thriller from an author she usually liked failed to thrill her this morning.
Her phone buzzed.
Puce.
Caitlyn laughed out loud. Good thing there was no one around. And that she’d already swallowed her soda.
Bullshit.
He replied with the grinning emoticon.
Blue. You?
No, I’m feeling good today.
He sent her an eye roll.
She could imagine him shaking his head, amusement lighting up his handsome face. Jesus. She needed to stop this train of thought. She tapped on her phone’s screen.
Blue-green. Can’t choose.
No fair.
Three dots appeared to show he was typing again.
You *have* to choose.
She may have startedthis, but she hated picking favorites. Favorite movie, book, food. It was always changing. How did a person pick one and never change their mind?
Turquoise.
Chicken.
She laughed again, ignoring the stately white-haired man who entered the lounge and gave her a curious look.
Favorite number.
19.
Double digits??
Who picked a number that high?
Go big or go home.
Mine’s 5.
She liked itsshape for some reason. Always had.
That’s odd.
She chuckled as she sent him a goofy face icon. Let the other pilot in the room wonder.
You really think someone’s going to ask us these?
