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Dead silence.

My heart slammed against my ribs without warning.

My fingers tightened on the desk edge.

"Send her in." My voice came out low. I looked up at Rocco. "Get out. Close the door."

Rocco didn't waste a word. He bent to scoop up the torn papers and got out fast.

The heavy double doors slid open a crack.

Her heels on the wool carpet were soft, but each step landed precisely on my pulse.

Ruby walked in.

She'd ditched the oversized hoodies. She wore a sharp burgundy shirt dress under a camel wool coat. The belt cinched tight, showing off every curve without apology. Her chin was tilted up, cheeks flushed from quick breathing, but her hands were locked around a heavy bundle of deep red roses, knuckles bone-white.

She looked nervous. Her lashes kept fluttering.

I rose from the leather chair, looking down at her from across the ten-foot marble-topped desk.

The air froze for five full seconds.

Neither of us spoke first. The Ecuadorian roses in her arms had petals thick as velvet, that dark crimson stark against the dim office, water droplets still clinging to the edges.

She took a deep breath, like it took everything she had, and lifted her chin higher. "Are you free tonight? I'd like to take you to dinner."

I stared at her. One eyebrow ticked up slightly.

An invitation that bordered on provocation.

A laugh rolled out of my throat.

The congestion that had clogged my chest for days seemed to exhale with that sound. I felt light.

I rounded the desk slowly, looking down at her pressed lips. "What's this, Ms. Caldwell? You slammed the door in my face in Paris, called me a liar, and now you're back in New York trying to buy your boss back with thorny roses?"

Ruby's face flushed visibly, shame and defiance flashing in her eyes.

She bit her lip. Without a word, she slammed the entire heavy bouquet down on my mahogany desk.

The green stems scraped the surface. Water splattered.

"Forget I said anything."

She spat the words out, whipped around, grabbed her coat, and marched toward the door.

"Ruby."

I said her name.

She stopped cold two steps from the handle, back to me.

I watched her straight spine tremble. She didn't leave right away. She held that position, then slowly turned her face halfway back, amber eyes half stubborn, half hopeful and tentative.

Like a bristling kitten still waiting to see if she'd get petted.

I picked up the rush file that had been sitting ready on my desk and walked two steps behind her.