“My turn to ask you something,” I say, my voice huskier than normal.
“Be my guest.”
“Why didn’t you tell your mom or your aunt and uncle that I’m your boss? Why invent the antiques dealer and friend cover?”
“Why does it matter?”
“Don’t get me wrong, I lie too, more than I’d like to. But I avoid lying gratuitously. It’s too much work remembering the lies and keeping the story straight.”
She fiddles with a strand of her hair. “My boss in my previous job… he was also my boyfriend. Everybody told me it was a bad idea. And guess what? They were right!”
“Business and pleasure don’t mix well.”
“No, they don’t.” Her hand is on the side of her neck now. “In my defense he was my boyfriend first. I agreed to work for him and his dad when their company was in a tight spot. And then, two years later, he fired me.”
I whistle silently. “That’s harsh. What did you do to deserve it?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Wait, is that the boss you mentioned during your job interview, the one who fired you after you called him… every name in the book?”
“Maybe.”
I sidle closer still. “Had he cheated on you?”
“No. He treated someone else badly. A longtime employee.”
“And White Knight Lucie had to intervene?”
She nods, smiling sheepishly.
I smile, too.
Seconds pass. I’m burning—no dying—to kiss her again. But I can’t. I mustn’t. She’s off-limits.
“Alittle cramped in here, isn’t it?” she whispers, far too close for my peace of mind.
“Sorry.”
“For what?”
“Erm…” Well, if she hasn’t noticed my bulging crotch yet, then I sure won’t mention it. “Putting you in this situation.”
Feeling her breath against my chest isn’t helping matters either. Just how long is it going to take that guard outside to do his first round?
I move as subtly as I can, trying to rearrange myself so that I can distance my embarrassment from her body and listen easier at the door. But my effort backfires as my fingers graze hers. I freeze. The moment stretches out in the chaotic rhythm of our puffing breaths.
She pulls away, breaking the spell. I’m thankful she made the move though because I was a hairbreadth away from lacing my fingers through hers and pulling her close.God help me if she gave in!
I busy myself with listening at the door, but the effort is fruitless. There’s no convenient thudding of footsteps outside, no sign that will help me pinpoint exactly where the guard currently is.
I keep listening, tense and determined, and entirely unprepared for the back of her hand pressing against my palm. Suddenly, my mouth is a parched wasteland that I don’t trust to make a sound. This time, it’s my turn, right? I have to be the one to draw away, to disengage.
It’s obvious that she touched my hand unintentionally, just like I brushed hers a few minutes ago.
Except she’s lingering a little too long for an accidental brush.
No, no I must cling to that fiction! If I allow myself to envision for just one moment that she wants the same thingI do, then I’m going for it, right here, right now. Holding her. Kissing her. Taking her.
