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Chapter Thirty-Four
Mia
That week, Terry and I fell into a routine—dinner at one of our apartments, sex into the late hours of the night, spending the night together, and then walking into work together the next morning. Whenever we could, we spent our lunch hours together, hiding away in my office or heading to the rooftop patio. It was the perfect place to take in the view of the city and enjoy a nice, quiet lunch.
I would have been lying if I said I hadn’t enjoyed it, in more ways than one. But at the same time, I kept wondering why we never talked about the past—about the postcard and why he had sent it to me in the first place. The questions were always on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn’t bring myself to ask them. I was afraid all of this would end.
The sound of a throat clearing caused me to look up and find Terry leaning against my office, one hand lazily resting on his hip and the other hidden behind the door. He wore a sexy-as-fuck expression on his face. I smiled at the thought of him.
“I thought everyone had gone home,” I noted, leaning back in my chair to enjoy the view of him. I loved it when he wore those low-slung jeans, a black button-up shirt cuffed at the elbows, and of course, his cowboy boots. I’d always been a city girl, but there was something about this man that could so easily turn me into a country girl.
“Most people,” he said. His eyes fixated on me.
“Are you ready to head out?”
“Not exactly.” A bottle of wine appeared from the arm that had been hidden. He flipped it in the air once and caught it. “I thought maybe we could spend some time upstairs on the patio and watch the sunset.”
“The sunset, huh? Well, that won’t be for a couple of hours,” I reminded him.
“Sure, but I have some yummy Chinese food on the way. I thought that would keep us busy for some time.” He grinned wide, and I immediately knew he had some other things in mind for us to do while we waited for the sun to set.
“I’m not having sex with you on the roof of this building.”
He arched an eyebrow at me. “That doesn’t sound like the girl I know. Besides, why else would you have put that nice comfy furniture up there? Somebody should take it for a test drive, assuming they haven’t already.”
I shook my head. Sure, the outdoor furniture was comfortable: oversized chairs, a sofa that could hold at least two, and a chaise lounge. But I knew my employees well—they barely used the place, let alone had sex up there.
“Usually, it’s just Ally and me that use the space. We’ve done photo shoots up there for the catalog, but I’ve never caught anyone up there having sex. And we won’t be the first ones to do it.”
He chuckled. “You like to ruin all my fun, don’t you?”
Shaking my head, I glanced at the time; it was well after six. I was surprised Ally hadn’t stopped in to say good night before she left. She normally did. “Ally not out there?” I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me.
Terry moved further into the office, appraising me. Instinctively, I took a step up. He smirked at me, stopping his pursuit. “I sent her home and promised to take real good care of you.”
“I’m not having sex with you up there,” I repeated, this time slower. I knew the smile on my face made it hard for him to believe me, but I meant it. Or at least, I thought I did.
“Whatever you say, darlin’.”
My stomach growled loudly in the quiet of the office, as if it just remembered I had missed lunch.
“Forget something again today?” Terry asked me, his tone scolding. It made me smile that he was concerned when I missed the basic necessities like eating.
“Yeah, there was a budget meeting today and it ended up lasting through lunch. Once that meeting was over, marketing had some questions for Catherine. They’re still a little prickly about her being here, so I sat in on that meeting to make sure they were all playing nice. And of course, they were. Catherine is a miracle worker.”
“She is.” Terry nodded in agreement. “This isn’t the part of the business you enjoy, is it?”
“What? The meetings or being the face of the company?”
He smirked. I had brought up something he hadn’t intended to ask. But now that I had, I could tell he wasn’t going to let me off the hook.
“Food first, questions later,” I informed him.
We made our way upstairs and ate our picnic dinner situated on the couch, feet propped up on the table in front of us. The food he bought was delicious—chicken and broccoli, fried rice, and noodles. He remembered my favorite. But that was Terry; he always remembered the little things.
“Okay, I’ve fed you. Now will you answer my questions?”
“What questions?” I asked, attempting to play dumb but failing.
