I take a minute on the elevator to pull my winter coat off and toss it over my arm. The groan
behind me makes me smile. I tuck it away, then turn to him, eyes wide.
“Did you say something?” I ask innocently.
Zach can’t hide the look of horror on his face. “What exactly are you wearing?”
“A dress.”
“Could you have picked an uglier pattern?” Everything in him is cringing back. It’s funny, but I
didn’t expect the little tendril of embarrassment in my chest. Why do I care what he thinks?
“There might have been one or two others to choose from. I think they had little hearts and little
flowers, but I already have some flower dresses. I thought I’d branch out.”
“To bugs?” he asks with disbelief.
“Huh. Look at that,” Jonas says, leaning down and peering closely at my chest, and the small
ladybug and beetle print running in rows. “From far away, they could be mistaken for stripes, but
nope, bugs.” His face is inches from my breasts as he studies the pattern. It occurs to me that it might
be perceived as inappropriate if someone were looking at us. But Jonas isn’t interested in my boobs. I
have the feeling he’d pull a magnifier glass out of his pocket, if he had one, to get a closer look at the
pattern. Zach’s eyes dart from his brother, and back to me. A frown twists his handsome face. I almost
feel bad for offending his sensibilities…almost.
The door opens onto the executive floor, and he slides off, stalking down the hall. We follow,
close on his heels, trading amused glances. Maybe it’s childish, but annoying this put-together man is
satisfying.
As we near my office, my steps slow. I didn’t see it when we got off the elevator. But now, I don’t
know how I missed it.
There, above my desk, and any desk within a twenty-feet radius, are light dispersing panels on the
ceiling. I drop my things to my desk and sit in my chair to gaze up. It feels like I’m on the forest floor,
looking up through the green canopy of trees to the blue sky above. And the glare I usually feel under
fluorescent lights is nowhere to be found. Tears prick my eyes at the thoughtfulness.
“You had a late night,” Jonas says, studying his brother. “You were here, doing this.” It’s not a
question. The conviction in Jonas’s voice is unarguable. Zach rolls his neck and pins me with a
halfhearted glare.
“Maybe now you’ll burn those ugly fucking sunglasses.” He’s trying for cold, but there’s a faint
