The insistent vibration against my hip startled us both. We sprang apart as if electrocuted, breathing heavily, eyes wide and locked. His phone. Reality crashed back in, harsh and unwelcome.
I smoothed my hair. “You’d better check that.”
“I…” He started, then grabbed his phone and frowned at the screen. “It’s a text from Marilyn. Confirming the meeting we have shortly with a new client.”
I nodded as I tried not to focus on his swollen lips. “Right. Work.”
He looked down at me, his eyes still dark with lingering desire, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “Later this week, then?”
“Yes,” I promised, my voice steadier this time. “We’ll talk.” My own professional responsibilities beckoned—invoices to approve, staff schedules to finalize, a resort to run. Anything normal. Anything that didn’t make me feel like the earth itself was askew.
He gave me one last intense look, a silent promise hanging in the air, then pushed aside the plastic sheeting and stepped back into the noisy reality of the construction site.
I leaned back against the closet for a moment after he was gone, my legs shaky, my lips tingling. What in God’s name had just happened? I’d come here to settle the plumbing issue, and somehow we’d nearly combusted in a dusty closet.
Taking several deep, centering breaths, I smoothed down my polo shirt, tucked stray hairs back into my ponytail, and forced myself to walk back out into the controlled chaos. Thank God none of the workers were paying any attention. Professionalism was my armor, and I needed it now more than ever. As I hurried toward the main lobby, one thought echoed in my mind.
Later this week.
