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She knew he planned on returning to the store to finish his last few remaining tasks and she’d figured he’d be gone a couple hours, tops. But now that it had been almost four since his dinner had begun, she was starting to worry.
Unlike him, she had no problem acknowledging it either.
What kind of business dinner went way past midnight? Was there more going on here than she realized?
“Shocker,” she muttered.
Maybe he’d gone home? He’d been keeping a brutal schedule lately. But he’d mentioned earlier that he still needed to accomplish a few things before his trip. Sleep never ranked before work with Spencer.
She rose and paced to the door. The parking lot was still empty, save for her small sedan. For a moment, she actually considered calling him. As if he was her boyfriend and she had a right to be concerned.
But it wasn’t her place. This was business and she’d better get used to him being gone a lot longer than a few hours. She was damn lucky he’d even been around so much lately. His absences from the store were frequent, but he always came back.
Until the day he doesn’t…
Kelly shook off the thought and made herself get back to work. She wanted to have the section finished tonight. Another going-away present of sorts.
She grinned. Hell, if she kept it up, she might as well buy him a dozen roses and a stuffed bear that said Be Mine.
She was so involved in what she was doing she barely heard the door open and close a while later. She set down her dustrag and cocked a hip as she listened to the sound of footsteps disappearing down the hall.
He had to have seen her car. He must’ve known she was there yet he hadn’t stopped by to say hello. Or even “go home”.
A quick glance at her watch had her eyes widening. Holy fuck, it was past two. Where had he been all night?
And with whom?
Her heart sped up in time with her breathing. He wasn’t a liar. If he said he had a business dinner, that’s what he’d had. Spencer’s word meant something to him. Beyond that, they didn’t have a commitment to each other. She hadn’t spelled anything out as far as what she would and would not tolerate.
Even so, her senses were on high alert. If she’d ever felt less like crawling all over a man, she couldn’t remember it.
She headed back to his office as slowly as her legs allowed. It was hard not to rush but she wasn’t about to look desperate. Right now, being made up like an overeager bimbo was bad enough.
He’d closed his door.Nice. As if that could keep her out. She turned the knob without knocking, unsure of what she’d find.
Spencer sat hunched over his desk—tie unknotted, jacket off, shirt half-unbuttoned and head in his hands. Shocked into silence, she stood in the doorway and worried her lower lip.
“You don’t know when to leave well enough alone, do you?”
The smart-assed question normally would’ve pushed all her buttons. When delivered in a jagged voice she’d never before heard from him, her ire had no chance.
Need flared low in her belly. So much for thinking her concerns had killed her desire. Even when she shouldn’t give in, wanting him left no room for anything else. As his dark eyes smoldered into hers, she knew he fucking knew it too.
Her throat convulsed as she stepped closer and smelled the expensive perfume all over him. It clung to his clothes, his hair, his skin. As if he’d been up close and personal with the owner.
She walked around the desk, already unbuttoning her blouse. Once upon a time—last week—she never would’ve reacted this way. She didn’t know where he’d been or who he’d been with. If she asked, most likely he wouldn’t tell her. And she accepted that, because she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.
What she needed to do was to demand the truth. Not make excuses to herself about alternatives to the most likely explanation. But she couldn’t demand the truth, not when she knew there was a chance it would make her leave him. Easier to think she was paranoid. God, she just wanted to be wrong.
Dysfunctional relationship had once been a term she heard on daytime TV. Now it was her life, and she still wasn’t backing away.
In her own way, she was still making plans. Still taking calculated risks. Despite evidence to the contrary, the one thing she couldn’t deny when it came to Spencer Galvin was her gut. And that told her not to believe everything her skittish heart warned could be true.
She stopped beside his chair and waited until he looked her way before she untied the shirttails of her blouse. Confronted with lots of bare skin and her scarlet bra, his gaze met hers, his brows low over eyes that were impossible to read.
Did he want her here? What if desire had her all twisted up and he really had slept with another woman? Maybe he hadn’t even recovered yet.
One quick glance at his tented pants answered that question. Still, what was she doing? Had she really sunk so low that the promise of a man’s possibly sloppy seconds soaked her panties?
