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I lie to the receptionist that he’s expecting me and am met by a beautiful young woman who identifies herself as Lucy, his secretary. She looks at both the receptionist and me as if I’m crazy.
“Mr. James doesn’t have anyone on the list of appointments today,” she tells me, eyeing me distrustfully.
I bite the inside of my lip. “Weird. I saw him last night and told him I’d be by.”
That seems to do the trick. The girl smiles. “Oh, you must be the one Cat was going on about this morning.”
I blush. Who is Cat and what were they saying about me?
She sighs. “But I still can’t let you back there. I got in enough trouble for letting his sister through this morning.” Ah, his sister, Cat. Catherine. The assistant looks sideways. “Let me talk to him. What did you say your name was?”
I close my eyes and pray that I’m not making a mistake by showing up here. “Grace Kensington.”
She smiles. It’s a sweet, endearing smile and I just want to wrap this girl in a hug. She’s so innocent looking. I have no idea how she’s lasted in a Fortune 100 company like this. You’d think she’d get eaten alive.
Almost as if she can hear my thoughts, she whispers, “It’s only my first week. I don’t want to lose this job.”
I smile. Makes more sense. “Absolutely. Just let him know I’d like to speak to him. If he’s busy, I can just leave him the list.”
She disappears down the corridor and I wait. Impatiently if I’m honest. My fingers twist in nervousness and I look around the offices, wondering what Cash is like as a boss. The man I’d met in Florida had been so different from the one I’d come to know here.
I suppose the same could be said for me.
I’m surprised when I hear him say my name, not expecting him to come to me. Maybe he doesn’t want me in his office. “Grace.”
When I turn, I repeat what an idiotic idea this was in my head. He looks delicious and caught off guard. I raise my lips in a nervous smile, holding up the folder in my hand. “I brought the list.”
He holds my gaze, not reacting at first. The eyes of both the receptionist and the secretary are on us, and yet I don’t move or react. I’m not sure what to do. Or to say. I just know that I want to live in the way he looks at me. And I know when one of us speaks we will ruin it. That’s all our words ever seem to do.
Finally, as if she can’t stand to watch me squirm, the secretary speaks. “Mr. James, would you like me to bring Ms. Kensington to the conference room so you can meet with her there?”
As if he’s just come out of the same trance as me, Cash shakes his head. “No, that’s okay. She can follow me back to my office. Come on, Grace.” He turns and walks, and I look to the two women who give me a sympathetic nod.
Everyone must feel the same way I do when they look at him. There is an air about him. And it’s clear that I’ve sucked too much of it.
When we reach his office, he gestures for me to enter while he waits at the door. I take the seat across from his desk and fidget uncomfortably, waiting for him to walk into his own office.
When he finally moves, I hear myself exhale. “I didn’t expect to see you,” he admits, taking the seat at his desk. I watch as his hand shuffles some papers on his desk, and he slips something into a folder and stuffs it into a drawer.
Uncertainty tests my every move, and I adjust my glasses and push my hair back out of my face. It’s down and in long waves, and I remember the way it felt when he ran his fingers through it as I laid on his chest in his bed. If he’s remembering the same thing, he seems completely unbothered by it as the mask of professionalism has returned to his face.
“I wanted to apologize and deliver this.” I slide the folder over the desk and wait while he pulls it to him.
“It seems that’s all we do to one another. Apologize, that is,” he replies, as his eyes turn down to the folder.
“Yes, well it seems that I act my worst around you, and I really don’t mean to.” I fold my hands in my lap.
“Why do you think that is?” he asks, curiosity lacing his voice but his face failing to give away his emotions.
Nerves make my hands shake. “Honestly, I think you make me nervous.”
He stares at me intently. “I don’t think that’s what it is.”
My hackles go up, and I feel my defenses ready to bite again. I try to keep my tone even. “Well, what do you think it is then, Mr. James?”
He shakes his head and opens the folder. I wait as he studies each profile that Rachel and I put together.
He’s not going to answer my question. We both know the answer. It’s something that we can’t discuss. We’ve both agreed to keep this professional. We’ve both agreed this is nothing. And yet I’m crushed because I know that I came here with the intention to keep it anything but professional. The fact that he’s unaffected by my presence and I can barely formulate a sentence leaves me desperate to exit his office.
