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"You're kidding, right? I'm coming too. I want to see the place."
"Err… I negotiated entrance for one. It's a sneaky operation."
"Then it'll be a sneaky operation involving both of us. I'll meet you there. What time?"
"One o'clock."
"Okay."
I arrive in front of his high-rise two hours later, overcome by the usual giddiness that grips me when I'm about to enter a new residential building. I'd put this up to being some sort of decorator quirk, but the truth is, new homes have fascinated me since I was a kid.
This time though, my stomach is in knots too, and Christopher himself is the reason for that. This will be the first time we’ve seen each other since the kiss. When we talked on the phone earlier, we were professional, and I resolve to do the same while I take the measurements.
When Christopher joins me, it's obvious he has something very different in mind.
He greets me by kissing my cheek, which he's never done before. The second his mouth touch my skin, my entire body buzzes with life. When he places one hand on my waist, the innocent kiss suddenly becomes an intimate experience. Even the air between us seems to crackle with tension. I become acutely aware of the fact that his lips are only a fraction of an inch away from mine.
Stepping back, I put some much-needed distance between us. "Hi."
In response, he offers me one of his trademark drop-your-clothes smiles.
He hands me a paper cup I hadn’t noticed before, his fingers lingering a second too long on mine. The brief touch is enough to send my senses into a tailspin. Oh boy.
"One eggnog with extra whipped cream and caramel topping. Your favorite," he informs me, and I melt even more than I did when he kissed my cheek. This is something I shared with him in a text almost three weeks ago. The fact that he remembers this little tidbit is beyond endearing.
"Thank you. Ahh, this is like a holiday in a cup for me, but it has alcohol. That's why I only drink it outside office hours."
"I know." He wiggles his brows. "I was counting on that leading to some inappropriate behavior during this sneaky operation."
"You're impossible." A white-hot current runs through me, watching the twinkle of mischief in his gaze. Holding my chin high, I decide to take charge. He wants to challenge me? Fine. Two can play at this game. Taking a sip, I enjoy the exquisite taste in my mouth, purposely letting out a small sound of pleasure. Christopher's expression of shock is the best damn reward.
Game on, Bennett.
"Follow me," I say.
My mole, Frank, waits for me in front of the construction container placed at the corner of the building.
"Hi, Frank! I'm Victoria. We spoke on the phone," I greet him, holding out my hand. He's in his fifties, with a bushy mustache and a beer belly. Frank bears an uncanny resemblance to Santa Claus.
"Victoria! Nice to meet you." He casts an uncertain glance to Christopher.
"Christopher's the owner of the apartment," I explain as the two men shake hands.
"I see. Let's get the two of you up, then. My lunch break begins in two minutes, and no one stops by the trailer at that time."
"You can just give me the key if you want to and enjoy your lunch, you don't have to show us up."
"Nah, it's best if I come with you. If some of the boys see you, they'll get smart with questions." The implication is clear: no one will question us if we're with him. Frank strikes me as someone who has the kind of quiet authority that people seldom question.
"Thank you for sacrificing your lunch break for us," I tell him sincerely.
"You made a very convincing case."
Frank disappears inside the trailer, marching back out a minute later holding a set of keys. He leads us straight through the front doors of the building.
The smell of paint greets us in the hallway. It bothers most people, but I like it. To our right is a sleek reception area, which will have twenty-four-hour service. Two construction workers walk in through the door behind the reception, eyeing Christopher and me curiously, but as Frank predicted, they don't say a word.
Everything about this building speaks of elegance and efficiency. Frank leads us to one of the six elevators, and while we speed up to the seventh floor, I sip from my cup of eggnog. I can't help a squeal when we step inside the apartment a few minutes later.
