I flop into my chair and stare at my blank document.
Okay. Work. We are working. We are a professional adult woman doing professional adult things.
My fingers hover over the keyboard.
I type:
“Love can strike out of nowhere..."
I stop.
Backspace.
My brain is still in the café, still hearing his voice, still replaying the way his eyes tracked me like he was memorising every expression I made.
I bury my face in my hands.
“Oh my god,” I whisper into my palms. “I’m in trouble.”
“Hey.”
I freeze.
I know that voice.
I straighten in my chair slowly, dread and heat pooling in equal measure.
And there he is.
Jaxon Cole, leaning one hand on the frame of my cubicle like it’s his personal doorway to temptation.
His suit is perfect,his tie loosened just slightly, and his jaw set in that infuriating, delicious way.
“Hi,” he says softly.
My heart bangs against my ribs hard enough to bruise.
He glances at my trembling fingers. Then at my flushed cheeks.Then at the empty document on my screen.
“Rough morning?” he asks gently.
I swallow. “Not… rough.”
He tilts his head. Heat flickers in his eyes.
“Good,” he murmurs. “I’d hate to think I started your day that way.”
I blink.
He steps closer, not touching me, not invading space, just enough that his scent curls around me like warm smoke.
“And Ruby,” he adds, voice dipping, “this isn’t over.”
Every cell in my body lights up.
Then he turns and walks away. Just like that. Like he didn’t just detonate every organ I have.
I grab the edge of my desk, try to breathe, and whisper:
