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“I’m sorry,” I said. “You’ve been lovely, and I hope this won’t affect our friendship in the future, but I—I just can’t.”
Slow as I could manage, I rose from my chair and left the room. My purse still sat on my desk untouched, so I swiped it up and donned my jacket, leaving the honeybee coffee to go cold. I headed toward the elevator with my eyes on my feet, ignoring Cam’s office door. Halfway there, I nearly bumped into Bennett.
His expression morphed from concern to bleak understanding as soon as my gaze met his. Without a word or a smile, I stepped around him and continued on my way. To my surprise, he didn’t protest or say my name, but I didn’t look back to see why.
My body was fantastically calm while my insides wallowed in icy darkness, each word from Shep’s mouth replaying in cartoonish fashion through my mind. Had he truly implied that Cam and I had maintained a secret relationship for years? That Cam’s pining had led him to Honey, to Ravi, to hiring me? It was all so ridiculously untrue that the urge to laugh overcame me. Luckily, I was alone in the claustrophobic elevator when that happened—a fit of strained giggle-tears that likely ruined my makeup.
If anyone was pining, it was me, and that would stop today. No way would I broach that minefield now.
In the alley behind the building, a chilly wind swept over the bare bits of my exposed skin—hands, neck, face—and cooled the tear tracks on my cheeks. I pulled my jacket tighter around me and power-walked down the path between buildings.
Nearly in the sunshine, the promise of warmth, a familiar, beloved voice stopped me in my tracks.
“Honeycutt!”
I turned to find Cam hurrying toward me, jacketless, his sandy hair windswept and his wintry eyes turned bright, like a flame viewed through ice. He slowed as he approached, his steps careful and precise.
“Yes?” I said.
Three paces away, he stopped and stared, his searching gaze fringed with panic and dismay. “What did he say to you?”
“It’s not important,” I said.
His right hand clenched and unclenched, but his voice remained even. “It is if it upset you.”
“I’m not upset.” My tone came out too loud, borderline shrill, and I tried to moderate it. “I’m merely…leaving.”
“Please—” He reached out, then seemed to think better of it and drew his hand back. “Please don’t.”
“I’m not getting anywhere here, Shepherd. I’m ignored, condescended to, asked out, stolen from, or insulted. I can’t— I can’t do this anymore.”
“I understand.” An icy wind blew over us, and he turned up the flannel collar of the shirt beneath his sweater. “I really do. Let me take you to lunch. We’ll talk about it.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.” I pivoted toward the mouth of the alley.
“Honeycutt.”
My steps faltered at the plea in his voice, and I turned to meet his eyes.
Understanding bloomed there, along with a fair bit of resignation. “I know what he’s like, and I can only guess what he said to you, but don’t let him get under your skin. Whatever he said… None of it matters.”
I blinked and sucked in a lungful of cold, coffee-scented air.
He pressed his advantage. “You’re doing great work here. That’s what matters. Do you have any idea how many calls we’ve gotten this morning? People want us now, and you did that.”
My heart tripped.
“I need you. Please don’t leave.”
His familiar features called to me—the two lines etching faint but permanent marks between his eyebrows, the not-quite-straight nose, the new golden-brown stubble that made me want to scratch my fingernails gently across his face.
And his eyes. That strange combination of his mother’s angelic blue and his father’s diamond-coated steel.
My willpower withered with each second of hesitation. He was a forbidden temptation above my reach, a symbol of all the things I could never have, all the things I’d taught myself never to want, yet there I was…
Weak for him.
“Please?” He took two steps closer, his soft voice caressing my self-control into a useless ball of putty. “Hear me out. I’ll take you to the city. Just the two of us.”
