“There it is again.” I shake my head. “Safe from what?”
His eyes hold mine. “From the part of my life that does not belong anywhere near you.” The way he says it sends a chill through me. Not because it sounds dramatic, but because I believe it’s true.
And also because part of me, the part I should absolutely not listen to, wants to ask him to show me anyway.
I swallow. “You could just tell me.”
He almost smiles. “And you could stop looking at me like that.”
My breath catches. “Like what?”
“Like you’re trying to decide whether to slap me or kiss me.”
Heat rises straight up my neck. But before I can come up with a response, he steps in close enough that I can smell his cologne again, that dark clean scent that already feels way too familiar.
“You should go back to your desk,” he says, low and even.
I lean away, challenging him. “Is that an order?”
“Yes.”
I hold his gaze for one second longer. “You’re very annoying.”
“And yet,” he murmurs, eyes dropping briefly to my mouth, “you keep chasing answers.”
My heart gives one hard, traitorous beat. He steps back first.
Then he pauses, one hand still on the doorframe, and says without turning around, “If you wanted my attention, you should have picked a different way.”
For a second I just stare at his back. Then my temper catches.
I fold my arms. “Oh, really?”
He turns then, slow and infuriatingly calm, one brow lifted like he already knows exactly how mad I am. His gaze drifts over me, unhurried, and the fact that he can still do that while I’m furious only makes it worse.
“Why don’t you focus,” he says, “on arranging my next date.”
The words hit like a slap.
I laugh once, sharp and humorless. “Unbelievable.”
“Professional,” he corrects.
“Cruel,” I shoot back.
Something flickers in his face at that. Not enough to call it guilt. Just enough to tell me I landed the blow where I meant to.
He says nothing.
So I keep going, because apparently I’ve decided today is the day I lose every self-preserving instinct I possess.
“You disappear, you ignore me, you tell me not to ask questions, and now you want me to line up another woman for you?” I shake my head, heat burning in my chest. “Do you hear yourself?”
His jaw tightens. “You have a job to do.”
“And you have the emotional range of a brick wall.”
That almost gets him. His mouth twitches, but it’s gone too fast for me to enjoy it.
