He does that eye contact thing again. The one that unsettles me so.
How much did I drink, anyway? Because suddenly I feel lightheaded. As if the two flights of stairs were actually two hundred and the air is thinner this high up.
“I can’t stay up here all night,” I say breathlessly. “Eventually I have go back down to find my—”
I cut myself off before I say the word date.
Why? I don’t know.
Maybe it’s because it’s Keegan, and it’s not a date. Not really.
Maybe it’s because this is Reid, and he’s been my dream guy for so long. And he knows I’m an employee, but he’s still talking to me like I'm a person, not an employee. No, not a person. A woman.
Or maybe it’s because it’s what Sasha would do.
Sasha wouldn’t feel obligated to stay with the man who brought her, certainly not if he didn’t even notice when she walked away.
“I have to admit ...” He meets my gaze over his drink, and I nod to indicate he should continue. “That sticky door latch? What would you say if I told you I lied about that?”
I shake my head. “I don’t follow.”
He pulls an exaggerated wince. “I really do have badge access.”
“W-why’d you lie?”
“No idea.” He shrugs. “I guess I didn’t want to admit to having C-suite perks. I liked seeming like an ordinary guy.”
I give him a once over, taking in his outrageous good looks and his freakin’ tux. As if he could pass for ordinary. “How veryPrince and Pauperof you.”
“It sounds ridiculous when you put it like that.”
“That’s because it is ridiculous.” I channel Reb and pull up my worst British accent. “Oh, hello, fine sir. Please ignore my bespoke tux while I pretend to slum it with you commoners.”
He scrubs a hand down his face. “Please tell me I don’t sound like that.”
I look at him with overly-wide eyes and deadpan, “You would never.”
“In my defense, the badge access thing isn’t because I’m the CEO. Forester+Blake has been in the building long enough that access to the roof is in our company contract.”
I gape. “So, what? All our badges give us clearance to the rooftop?”
He nods.
“So I’ve been sneaking up there, subject to the whims of a sticky latch, when I could actually just use my badge?”
“Afraid so.”
“Um ... then w-why aren’t we having parties up there all the time?”
“I guess I enjoyed keeping it to myself.”
“Greedy bastard,” I mutter, propping a hand on my hip in outrage.
He laughs and counters. “Unruly subordinate.”
The easy repartee surprises me. I shouldn’t be this comfortable with my boss. Not even my actual boss. My boss’s boss.
I glance over at him to find his gaze on my face, his expression ...
