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“Feeling better?”
“I’m all right. Let’s finish this. I know you have another meeting, and I promised Emma I’d be on time tonight so she won’t miss her dance class.”
Noah’s brow furrows as he makes his way to the table and plants himself across from me. “On a Wednesday? Emma’s class is usually Saturday.”
He remembers the day of Emma’s ballet lessons? Of course. The man is a genius. I shouldn’t be surprised.
“The kids are with Tim this weekend. He’s taking them to the lake, so tonight will be Emma’s make-up lesson.”
“What are your plans while the girls are gone?”
Does Noah want to know as a man or a boss? Has to be the latter, especially since he has Misty and her pom-poms.
“I’ll finish laying the new tile in the girls’ bathroom. It will be nice to have that chore done.”
I don’t ask about his plans. If it involves Misty and satin sheets, I’d rather not know.
Sad, really. I haven’t always been this way around Noah. When Tim and I were first married—before the high-powered job, the kids, and the PTA meetings consumed our lives—I enjoyed Noah’s company and sharp wit. I always hoped he’d meet an awesome woman someday. Now, if he announced he’d found Miss Right, I’d feel an irrational urge to cry. I’ve never even met Misty, and already I want to punch her.
“Hmm,” he responds. “Since I have nothing planned, I assumed whatever you had going on must be more exciting, but clearly I’m wrong.”
“You mean you don’t want to play house?” As soon as the teasing words leave my mouth, I’m mortified. That comment came out so wrong… “I—I meant help me finish the girls’ bathroom.”
Noah looks like he’s repressing a smile. “Um…no. Sorry. Enjoy, though.”
“Leaving all the fun to me, huh?”
This is the rapport with Noah I miss. Fun chitchat, the banter back and forth. We haven’t been able to talk like this since shortly before the divorce, when I started looking at him as a man. And wanting him. Though he remained friends with Tim, he reached out to me soon after the split and told me that if I needed anything, he would help. And he has—many times. But our easy camaraderie of the past seems to be a casualty.
He shoots me a mischievous smile. While his gaze doesn’t dip below my neck, I sure feel it right between my legs. That expression does all kinds of damage to my self-control. If I didn’t know better, I’d wonder if he’s flirting. But he isn’t, and I should look away. Only Noah’s blue eyes reel me in. The man is mesmerizing. And I have to stop gawking or he’ll know how badly I want him. Hell, he might even fire me for sexual harassment.
“So…only three items left on our list to cover,” I say, breaking the taut silence.
“Hmm.” He turns his attention to his laptop, grabbing his mouse with long, strong fingers. I’d rather see them elsewhere. Like on me.
Give it up and get over it.
“Lauren, I can’t find the e-mail you sent with those new appetizer suggestions. You know, the ones you put out last week? Can you print me a copy?”
“Sure.” I’m happy for any excuse to leave and get my head together.
When I round the corner of my desk, I find a textured white envelope in my chair. I see nothing written on the front, but since it’s on my seat, I assume someone left it for me.
Noah, maybe?
A tiny flutter of hope sparks in my chest. Maybe he’s ending my months of pining and finally making a move?
My cheeks flush as I glance back toward his office. Through the frosted glass, I see his broad-shouldered silhouette, so tantalizingly close yet impossibly out of reach. I’m setting myself up for disappointment. No matter how much I crave Noah’s touch, how penetrating his stare seems, he doesn’t see me that way.
Swallowing hard, I shove aside the too-familiar ache, withdraw the lone page inside, and unfold the thick paper to read…
* * *
You. Me. Naked skin. Shared fantasies. A whole night.
Soon.
* * *
