“I understand your frustration, Amanda,” I say in my most soothing customer service voice I’m not feeling at all right now. “Let me see what I can do for you. May I place you on a brief hold?”
Without waiting for her answer, I hit the hold button and march to Noah’s doorway, knocking on the frame. He looks up with a raised eyebrow.
“There’s an Amanda on the phone,” I inform him, keeping my voice neutral despite the curiosity burning inside me. “She says you stood her up Friday night and blocked her number.”
His face darkens instantly. “Tell her I’m in a meeting.”
“She says she won’t hang up until she gets an explanation.”
He runs a hand through his hair, messing it up in a way that’s annoyingly attractive. “Jesus Christ. Tell her—” He pauses, seeming to weigh his options. “Tell her I had a family emergency.”
“A family emergency,” I repeat flatly. “The night you sent me to the archives and then disappeared to have avery pleasant time?”
Our eyes lock, and something electric passes between us. He looks away first, clenching his jaw tight.
“Yes,” he says shortly. “That’s what happened.”
I cross my arms, not accepting the answer.
“I don’t care what you tell her,” Noah says, his voice dropping to that dangerous pitch that makes my skin prickle. “Just get rid of her.”
I examine my nails, letting the silence stretch between us. His dark eyes narrow with a challenge, and I let out a loud sigh.
“Fine.” I turn on my heel, marching back to my desk. I pick up the phone with a saccharine smile in my voice. “Amanda, I’m so sorry, but Mr. King had a family emergency Friday night that required his immediate attention.”
“What kind of emergency?”she demands.
I glance toward Noah through the open door, who’s pretending not to listen while staring holes through his blueprints. “I’m afraid I can’t disclose personal details, but he deeply regrets missing your dinner.”
“Bull. Shit.”Each syllable is a knife meant for Noah.“Tell that asshole to forget my phone number. There’s plenty of fish in the city, and his tail is nothing to write home about.”
The line goes dead with a sharp click. I sit there for a moment, processing what just happened, then slowly place the phone back in its cradle. Through the still open door, I can seehim watching me with an unreadable expression, so I stand up and walk up to lean on the doorframe of his office.
“She hung up,” I announce cheerfully. “But not before sharing her opinion about your, uh, anatomical inadequacies.”
His face flushes dark red, and I feel a petty satisfaction bloom in my chest. He deserves every bit of embarrassment for whatever he made me think last Friday.
“Did she now,” he says through gritted teeth, standing up from his desk.
“She did. Very colorful language.” I turn to go back to my desk because I’m fighting to keep the smirk off my face. “Shall I add ‘damage control for your dating disasters’ to my job description? I should ask for a raise for that.”
He appears at my desk faster than I expect, bracing his hands on the surface as he leans down. His masculine scent washes over me, and I have to grip my pen tighter to keep my hands steady and not pull him by his collar to me.
“My personal life is none of your business,” he growls, his voice low and dangerous.
I tilt my head up to meet his glare, refusing to be intimidated even though my heart is hammering against my ribs. “It becomes my business when your scorned dates call the office demanding explanations.”
His eyes flit to my lips for just a second before snapping back up. “Don’t push me.”
I don’t know what comes over me because the person who starts talking is not me. “Then why does it feel like you want to be pushed?”
His pupils dilate, swallowing the warm chocolate of his eyes. His chest begins rising faster. “What gave you that impression?”
Involuntarily, my tongue peeks out to lick my lips, and Noah’s eyes drop to follow the movement. “Didn’t you want me to know what you would be doing after work on Friday?”
“How did you draw that conclusion?”
“Why else would you announce your plans for the whole floor?” I counter.
