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I lean back in my chair and fold my arms behind my head. “Well,” I say, drawing things out as I tilt my head back and forth as if weighing my thoughts. “He’s...” I duck my chin as if reconsidering my choice of words.”
She sighs. “Yes?”
“He’s...” I say, rubbing my chin thoughtfully with one hand, clearly deep in thought about my opinions of Sterling. What I'm really doing is enjoying the suspense.
Emma lets out a groan. “Come on, just say it already.” Clearly, she has caught on to my tactic and is not amused.
“He’s...” I say, glancing at her, noticing she’s leaning in closer. “He’s not worth your time. Or your energy.”
She lets out a hissing sigh and throws an empty folder at me. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say after all that build up?”
“I mean, I’m not wrong,” I say, giving an exaggerated shrug before deflecting the stapled packet of papers she throws at me next. “He's not worth your time or mine or anyone’s really. He's a waste of space, a waste of oxygen-”
“Geeze, why don’t you tell me how you really feel?” she asks with a laugh. “I get it. You don't like him, but you don't have to be so judgey about it.”
“To be clear, I'm judging him, not you. And you did ask me what I think of him, and I gave you an honest answer, so maybe you should thank me for being candid.” I lift an arm to shield me from her notepad.
“Thank you? I should thank you for insulting my boyfriend? You are unbelievable.” I can hear the laughter in her voice, and my heart flip-flops in behind my ribs. “But I guess you're right. Something that I like about you is that you're always honest, even when it hurts.”
Warmth unfurls like the leaves of one of my plants when the sunshine comes in through the windows of my penthouse through my being.
Did she just say she likes me?
My heart picks up its sluggish pace.
Does she mean that in a friendly way or something more?
I'm not really sure how to respond, so I play things safe. “You're welcome. I'm glad you appreciate my honesty. So are you going to dump him or not?”
She leans back in her chair with a laugh. “As awful as it was of him to come bursting in, I'm glad that you were here, too.”
The comment is as unexpected as the way her words make me feel. “I still can't believe that you said that I'm with the wrong person... or a jerk.”
I shake my head, feeling playful. “I said nothing of the sort. I may have implied that, but I didn't say it.” Our easy back and forth, playful banter and bickering drains the tension from the room, and I’m glad her boyfriend showed up, if only because I feel closer with her than ever before. If I was smart, I'd run for the hills, but I guess I am dumber than a box of rocks, because all I want to do is stay.
“No, I'm pretty sure that's what you said.” She relaxes, clearly not about to get back to the case we’ve been working on. I bend down to gather up all the projectiles she’d launched at me, then offer them back. But before she can grab them, I pull them out of her reach and stare at her.
“You're not going to throw them again, are you?”
She lunges for the stack. “I wasn't going to, but I might now,” she says as I pull them further away from her, holding them out and behind me.
We both suddenly realize she’s practically in my lap, that our faces are inches from one another. And she glances at my lips in a clear invitation to kiss her.
“You have to stop doing that,” I whisper, reaching up with my other hand - I’m not stupid, if she’s messing with me to get the things she threw at me, she’s not tricking me - and brushing the corner of her mouth with my thumb.
She lets out a soft hum of approval as her perfume leaves my mouth watering. I want to taste her. I want her. In every way possible.
And not just because she’s got me all twisted up inside, but because she’s soft and delicious, and looking at me like she wants me to show her my specific brand of intimacy.
When did these feelings and hunger get all tangled up in me? And does she feel the same way?
But there’s something I need to say before I go any further with her. “If your man isn’t willing to move mountains for you, to listen to how you feel, good or bad, if he has to be the center of your universe every second of the day, he’s trash. You deserve better,” I’m not sure if I’m talking about Sterling or myself with that last line. I have no doubt she deserves better than either of us could ever be, but that’s her call to make, isn’t it?
A gentle smile illuminates her features and I notice the random freckles marching across the bridge of her straight nose, the golden flecks in her beautiful blue eyes, the warmth in her expression.
And I want to kiss her.
I lean in, watching her reactions as she tilts her head to give me a better angle. That’s as good as permission for me, but I move agonizingly slow, giving her plenty of time to turn her head or push me away. She has control of this situation, and I’ll follow her lead.
